
Less than 72 hours after he came home, Lizard valiantly completed his Parkinson's battle.

It's 3 a.m. I've been awake since 1 a.m. I can't sleep. I wake often in the night to help Lizard, and he's no longer there.

I miss Lizard. I want back the Lizard who didn't have Parkinson's. The Lizard he is now. Now that I can't see him. Hold him. Be wrapped in his arms.

My gosh, I miss him so much.

I didn't think I'd have to go so long without him. I thought we'd have more time.

I know he is whole now, and I know we will be together again one day. I'm trying to cherish and be thankful for all the adventures we shared. I'm trying to remember how exhuberant he was every morning until a couple of years before he was diagnosed with Parkinson's. I'm trying to remember every joyful moment with him. I'm doing my best to be faithful and hopeful. There are moments of exquisite joy. There are moments of excruciating agony.

I would never want him to have to endure that suffering again. But I miss him so much.













































