...because the pain remains too fresh, too intense.
The worst thing about Christmas:
For the first time in 18 years, I will be absolutely, 100% alone. Hobbes won't be here to help me maintain even a minimal facade of happiness...
Obviously, he knew nothing about Christmas. What he did know was he got gifts (catnip mice, noisy toys he could chase around the place, shiny things he could stare at), a helping of fresh-cooked turkey, ham, or roast beef, and a whole lot of attention.
In return, he loved me. That was as good a present as any I've ever received.
I can't go on with this. But I had to say it.
6 hours ago