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I keep expecting her to be there when I look up.
In the mornings, half asleep, I reach out under my bed groping for soft rabbit fur. Then I realize with a pang why I can't find her.
I wake up at night listening for soft rabbit noises which aren't there any more.
I open the balcony door and wonder where the hop-hop-hoping sound of heavy rabbit feet is.
There are so many situations and sounds that feel completey wrong without Penelope. I was not ready for her to die.

Pinella has been here a few times - searching and meowing.
My father plunged into cleaning and organizing, putting all rabbit gear away.
The apartment feels empty and a little cold now. Penelope was a vital part of my refuge here and a well of energy and regeneration. I feel out of balance. And I cannot decide if I feel empty of if my inner self is telling me to burn some more bridges, make some drastic changes, and start a new chapter in my life.

I feel like howling, but I am not yet ready to let her go.