Because I don't want to forget.

Our first family meeting.
All huddled on the couch.
Wes squawking.
Scott speaking so gently, so seriously.
The expressions on their faces.
The way Henry did his uncomfortable smirk, smile. Like he didn't know how to react so he just tried not to smile. (which was exactly how I reacted to the news)
How Ben silently put his face flat again the cushion. Silently listening.
How serious his face was all night.
How he kept stroking my arm, wrapping himself into me.
Knowing I needed the comfort as much as he.
The way Henry said "mommy, it looks like you need a snuggle" and curled up in a ball with me.
How for the first time in ages Ben brought me Henry & Mudge to read before bed.... you know, stories about a boy and his dog.
How he sat listening, with a twisted, tormented look on his face.
His little heart so heavy with sadness.
How they both cried at bed time.
Ben audibly.
Henry quietly.
Scott with Ben.
I with Henry.
Scratching backs.
Encouraging.
Remembering the good. Pushing away the bad.
Ben finally mourning himself to sleep.
How Henry's sobs gave way to silence.
To deep breaths of thoughts.
How he rolled over and thoughtfully said,
"Mommy, after Roxie dies. I don't want to get another dog, because then if he or if its a she, gets old and starts peeing in the house {a side affect of her poor body shutting down}, it'll have to die too. So can we get a bird?"
How long after we thought they were asleep Henry whimpered again.
"I just don't think I'm going to have a good night"

It dawned on me when Henry was born that Roxie would most likely die at that pinnacle age of impression. When he would understand and be hurt and sad and scared and confused. Roxie would be what would teach him the finality of death.

I hate that that time has come.