There have been a handful of moments in my life where I forget that the world isn’t just a giant computer. That I can't quickly press CTRL+Z on the keys of my life to undo a mistake and erase the action. Or even in more extreme cases, use the CTRL+Alt+Delete function to stop my current circumstance and reboot everything that has happened within the past 12 hours prior.
This is one of those moments. As I see the light from Griffin's eyes fade out, his body limp, lifeless against mine, and all I can do is scream. Clasping, pulling at his still form, drawing him closer to mine, I rock us back and forth, my tears blurring my vision as I cry into his hair, "I’m so sorry, so, so, sorry, I didn't," hiccup, "I didn't know, didn't mean for this, Griffin, I..."
I’m numb, the pain of his loss crippling. I can’t think, I can’t speak, I can’t breathe. The grief is all encompassing. I never wanted this. I just wanted time to think about the bond, not this.