I have been fooling myself. I’ve been going along convincing myself the damage wasn’t that bad, wasn’t already done, wasn’t irreversible. I’ve been living my life like our precious dear isn’t terminal. Our best friend, our soul mate, our confidant, our light in the darkness on the verge of darkness, gone from our lives forever.
I have to face this. I have to acknowledge this. I have to stand up and admit it out loud.
No is dying.
No is in a coma, a persistent vegetative state. I can’t stand the thought of pulling the plug, but it seems inevitable.