One of the many joys of having depression is that when I feel low about a loss, it tends to kick my ass a little harder and last a little longer than it would if I didn't.
Meggie died this past winter and I miss her terribly (even though she and I hadn't lived together for seven years). Mom always sent pictures, I always heard about what she was up to and how she was doing, and whenever I visited she would act as if I had never left. She got to road trip last summer with my parents--what could be more exciting for a dog than spending eight weeks and several thousand miles riding in the car, camping, walking, meeting new people and smelling new places?
All this is to say that I miss her keenly. I miss her almost as much as I miss my Nana, which is like a raggedy, sucking chest wound some days--I can't catch my breath and I think everyone can see the state I'm in at a glance.