As someone who does poetry and art for a living I really cannot think of a picture that I could paint for you out of words, or a parallel that I could draw to even come close to the emptiness I feel every day in this house.
Maila's nails aren't clicking on these strange tile floors. I can't hear Morgan snuffling off somewhere in search of a tasty morsel. No little snore snuffles in the middle of the night. No yawn/howls when I arrive home. No rubbing of her back into my foot over and over as she smushes her face into the couch.
My life is less now. Less beautiful. Less fun. Less meaningful/meaningless moments to be enjoyed or overlooked.
I have wicket and he is a joy. Perfect love and trust. He is a happy guy and there's something priceless about that happiness. He's also more nervous after losing the two he has looked up to his entire life. Tosh still mourns. I'll catch him wandering the house late at night with those inconsolable yowls of his. The only thing that brings them to an end is sweetly talking to him until he walks over, gets some love, and falls asleep.
We are all different for having loved and lost those girls.
Tosh is more depressed. Wicket is more anxious. Mischa is more open to wicket being affectionate. I don't shine quite so bright, I don't find myself dancing in my hallways. Remy has no animal that he snuggles with. Mom has it hit her frequently when she and Mischa come over. Gwydion feels almost lost with just one small dog to care for.
What is gone and irreparably harmed when the ones that we have promised to keep safe, die. And can we ever answer that question? Is the thing unknowable, all that is clear is its absence?
Maybe I'm ascribing an impossibility to cover for my inability to communicate the soul grinding ache of missing those two animals.
We got this house just in time to bury my loves in its soil.