The week before he died, that Thursday afternoon, I lost Ziggaro in the house. That NEVER happens. One second he was sleeping in the living room as usual, the next he was gone. He couldn't do stairs anymore and didn't bother trying. So it was highly unlikely he was up in the bedroom or down in the basement. I wandered the main floor over and over with no luck.

About to go upstairs, I heard the faint rattle of his toy boot. I hadn't heard that toy in months. All the B-team toys now lived in the B-team bed by the living room chimney. Most of them had been favorites at one time (or hopes of), but were now retired. The boot was different, it was a long term favorite going in & out of full play rotation regularly. Zig spent many winters in that bed with the heat from the chimney creating a warm & cozy nook. But last year he opted to be with me on couch and thus the bed became a B-team resort.

So there he was, snoozing with his old favorite friends, in his old favorite spot. I was relieved he was okay. Then the worrier in me kicked in over the idea of him hopping down. Would he break a leg? Would he smash his face on the floor? Would he be stuck and cry for help? Nope. None of that. When his time was done he carefully climbed down and all was well. He happily trotted back to the current favorite bed and flopped down to continue napping.

The prior week he had all but stopped eating, although would accept little bites here & there from Mike, which hurt my feelings terribly. He refused all medication and started sleeping pretty much around the clock. Then, the following Monday evening (he died early Saturday), Mike went out of town and Zig didn't want to sleep in bed with me. Instead, he spent the night in my sock bin. I don't ever remember him sleeping in there at night, he was always in bed with us. Again, my feelings were hurt, but as he stood in front of the bin I cried and put him in because it was clearly what he wanted. Being in the back corner of our closet, it had always been his go to place for relaxing and sleeping during the day since we built the house five years ago. Only this summer had he quit going there and opted instead to be attached to my hip.

I believe sleeping in socks and refusing food from me was his way of creating just enough distance between us so he could keep moving forward in his process. He did it for both of us because he knew I couldn't. He was always so wise and caring. And I'm pretty sure snuggling into his old bed with his old friends was the marked beginning of his final preparations. He was feeling all the past happiness and saying goodbye. Now it appears to be a piece of the bigger picture. In the moment it was just a picture.