Missing my dogs...

When Pat died, Sasha and Charlie were my most stalwart companions. We grieved together. When I cried, they came to comfort me. When they were sad, I hugged and cheered them.  Why did I think that I could move 300 miles away and not miss them with every fiber of my being? Being away from them a week was hard but they survived with the boys to hug on them and love them. Now, so many changes are happening I know that they are on edge. They watched me move things out of my home. Charlie moped and cowered because he knew deep in his heart that something was not right.  Now that it has been 8 days away, instead of being easier, for me it has become harder and harder.  It is grief. I'm experiencing grief - but without the comfort that got me through Pat's death. With that grief, I'm having bad dreams. I'm tense, I'm on edge. I keep thinking about their pain, their anguish. Wondering where I am, why I haven't returned. Their little world turned upside down. I think of Charlie creeping into the boys' bed after they fall asleep (they want him in earlier but pester him too much). Poor Sasha, doesn't want to be in the bed. She lays on the floor.  Her heart was shattered when Pat died. I must be killing her with my absence. Praying that I can have them with me soon. Desperately hoping something will work out so that they can be with me. We belong together.