I miss my cat. He's been gone a week now. It feels like yesterday and a month ago that I was holding him at the end of his life. He's supposed to be on the back of the couch while I write this and he's...not. His sister is becoming much more attached to me and that's great but she is also a little lost. They were never apart for more than a few hours in their entire lives.

I've actually cried tonight. I've not done much of that since it happened. I usually can't cry much without my therapist guiding me through it and of course this week I cancelled my appointment for the first time in so long I can't remember and then I couldn't get in later.

I'm scared of my therapy appointment because I'm afraid he won't let me just deal with Charlie but will try to tie it to the terminal illness of a family member. I think my therapist thinks I'm in a denial more than I am about that situation and I know that there are connections in this grief and how much worse that grief will be but I am not ready for that yet. For now I just need help saying good-bye to Charlie.

I think I need to play with my Abby cat for a while. She's had a hard evening too and my crying didn't help her.