Ocean of Grief

📌 Yesterday, Cocoa's (kitchen) water bowl has officially dried up. We haven't emptied it since the last day she took a sip from it 13 days ago. It's hitting me pretty hard. The grief I feel comes in waves. At the same time, it also feels like being stranded in the middle of a vast ocean, where I spend every waking moment treading water. My legs burn, and my lungs are screaming for air. At this point, the shore is nowhere to be found. People keep telling me that storm will come and go, but the water has not calmed around me since we've had to say goodbye. Some moments, the water is only choppy enough to remind me that you’re gone. Other times, a wave crashes over my head before I even realize it’s coming towards me, and suddenly I’m fighting just to breathe again. I'm crying, and I just can't stop. It usually happens in the middle of every day things. While making coffee. Brushing my teeth. Sitting on the couch, reading. Eating dinner. I’ll feel it slowly rise from somewhere deep…