Silence is not one of my favorite things in the world; in fact, it’s one of those things that I hate. So being without the ability to communicate with a large part of my universe because I have been moving has pretty much been weird. For me, any time I move it always results in another loss. This move I thought I was prepared for my losses. I was totally wrong.

Yesterday, Pablo, my pet bird, died. I’ve sort of been dreading the day, so in a way, seeing him dead wasn’t as traumatic as I expected it to be. Part of that bothered me though. When I came down and saw him laying there I didn’t cry. At first I was in disbelief, and then I realized it was true. My body, however, reacted as if this was just the usual goings on and proceeded into how to properly resolve this situation mode. Telling my mother, I felt some pain, but not what I had expected. I let out a few tears, but I kept feeling like, well it could have been worse.

In a lot of ways, I am sad to see Pablo go. Hearing him “cat call” was always one of my favorite parts of any given day. Watching him tear up cards and never back down from challenges eight times his size rank high on my answers to why this bird was awesome. That’s part of why it doesn’t hurt the way I think it should. Pablo lived a long life. He was always an awesome bird. He was very old, and everything was starting to bother him. The move was just too much for him.

I know for many people it’s just a bird and even this is a little more than I should probably be going into detail about, but Pablo was a part of my life. He was there through so many stages of it. It’s going to be weird not having him around, but I’m glad we could hang out while we could.