It’s been seven hours and 42 days since we took our Huck away, and these last six weeks Troy and I have been falling apart together. Not because we miss Huck so much, though we do feel his absence in the silence of the dishwasher, shower, and washing machine and the strangely lower grocery bills, but because our 53 year old bodies have decided they need some attention. Troy’s got a bum ankle that can make him hobble around like a little old man, and I’m becoming his mysterious perimenopausal sidekick with a hint of hypochondria in this bittersweet comedic tragedy. In our worst moments these ailments hurt most when we walk, and between that and the loss of our favorite walking companions, we find ourselves in odd corners of the house doing random yoga moves and stretches. At least we still have our teeth and good spirits.

And of course we do miss Huck so much. Huck being in college is like having a crush on someone who can make your day complete by giving you the tiniest bit of attention. A text from Huck always elicits a squeal of delight from this mother; FaceTime with Huck is how I imagine winning a dinner with Bono would be. I can’t get enough details of his busy college life that’s filled with math classes, musical rehearsals, choir rehearsals, lots of caffeinated beverages, lots of homework, city bus trips to Target & Trader Joe’s, study groups, the occasional hanging out til 3am. Sometimes he gives us a heads up that he’s about to walk pass the webcam, which makes him the greatest child there ever was.

But old habits are hard to break; as I’m about to run the dishwasher there’s always a split second when I almost head toward Huck’s room to look for cups. As I empty my water bottle at the end of the day, there’s always a split second when I start to head toward Sunny’s water bowl. Last week we went to the FHS Homecoming Parade so we could get a glimpse of the choir float and Huck’s old friends. One of them good-naturedly yelled, “Where’s Huck?!” and I got that familiar lump in my throat while smiling and waving maniacally. Tonight we took Sunny’s remains to the yearly Blessing of the Animals at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, and we took comfort in the loving words of St. Francis while happy dogs barked all around us.

Change and loss, pain and relief, grief, joy and FaceTime – the words that describe these days.