I feel silly. I feel silly because it amuses me when he is silly. But with each passing day I am more and more aware that his days are numbered and so any time he acts healthy and happy is a good day.
He seems weaker and his balance seems to be waning and now I realize that despite his moments of apparent youthful exuberance, I may be looking at weeks or months rather than months or years that I have left with him.
His death will take a tremendous, indefinable toll on me, but tonight, while he chases one of his bell stuffed toy balls around the house, I laugh! It makes me feel silly… And it feels good!