Today (Valentine's) is Puck's birthday. Today, he would've been fifteen. I used to give him lots of cookies and his favorite treat - a big bowl of cat food - accompanied by a birthday belly rub. I never felt sad or lonely on this insipid holiday. I'd always declare Puckers as my Valentine - boyfriend or no boyfriend - because he really was the great love in my life.
Funny. I haven't cried as much as I thought I might since he died. I think depression-era Lindsay would've done nothing but sob relentlessly for weeks. I used to not want to move on from a loss because I believed (irrationally) that I was somehow saying that person wasn't significant. As if, by moving forward, I was declaring I no longer loved those I lost. I lived in that sadness. I lived for that sadness. Sad was the life I knew - the only space I could exist.
Dealing with my depression is an on-going struggle. Today - at this time in my life - I am happier than ever. I can look back at who I was and not want to be her anymore. And that's okay - it's okay to not want to be your old self. My old self breathed pure insecurity and went through every day trying to choke back tears. Old self didn't want to get out of bed, talk to people, or even really live. Yeah, not me anymore. Not for awhile.
Puck hated to hear me cry. It was the only time he would leave my side. Poor guy - depression or no depression I'm a pretty teary person! So, maybe that's why God let him stay with me for so long. I bet Puck waited until he knew I'd be okay. He wouldn't want to watch me sit and cry from Heaven.
Today, pour out a little cat food for my Valentine baby. He lives in my heart, always.