Scared.

I really needed Rick tonight. I got home from a work conference followed by annoying death errands to find cat throw-up all over my house. Then when I fed the cats, Juice wouldn't eat, confirming my suspicion that it was she who was sick. I was just getting frantic when my good friend Jennifer showed up at my house for dinner as planned.

We took Juice to the vet. She was acting so sad and wasn't herself at all. She has the beginning signs of pancreatitis and some elevated kidney levels, but they think it was just because she was dehydrated. She got subcutaneous fluids and some meds. I have to give her meds for a week. She is not a happy cat. We all want Rick.

The vet bill was steep and I am really worried about Juice (she hasn't eaten), but I was glad Jennifer was with me tonight if I couldn't have Rick. We left the vet in the pouring rain, with thunder and lightning booming. Poor Juice had such a hard night. Jennifer and I got soaked.

Pizza and mozzarella sticks are in the oven, we're wearing manly sweatpants, and she's letting me blog.

If Rick was here, he would tell me that there's nothing to cry over, because I did exactly what I needed to do. I took the cats to the vet, I got medicine, and I'm back home eating dinner at 9:45 at night. If Rick was here, he'd give me a pep talk. If Rick was here, he'd take care of me.

Now I have to take care of myself. And I'm perfectly capable. But sometimes I would rather throw a tantrum. Or cry. Everything seems scarier without Rick.

I'm so scared of bad things happening and not having him here to be with me. To comfort me. To hold me. To talk to me. To listen to me.

Bad days seem so much worse now that he's not here. Staying positive is easy for me, but when I go to sleep at night, I'm still alone and I'm still sad. I'm still scared.

The word "scared" covers so much of how I feel. There is so much unknown territory, so many challenges waiting, and so much emptiness. I want to feel happy again. I want so much to feel like my world isn't a dark abyss of fear and loss. I know I can rise above that dark abyss, and I know that I can do it with a smile - a genuine smile. But tonight, it's so hard. I just want my husband to touch my hair and kiss my cheek and tell me that Juice will be okay. I just want a life that doesn't exist anymore.

But right now, it's time. Time to stop crying. Time to eat dinner. Time to move forward in this new life.