Pants vs the new normal

I brought Smokey's ashes home today. Where there has been this nothingness, this void, where I couldn't feel her, has now been filled again.
It's corny, I'm sure. To think that the physical presence of my cat exists in her ashes. But I can't deny how I feel.
I put her up on a shelf with her favorite blanket, and her honey suckle chip. Next to the window she loved to sleep near, right where the sun will catch her in the morning. Her paw prints came today too. They took three sets of her front paws so I can have them tattooed, giving me more options. I have a consultation with my artist next week once I'm off shift. I'm so thankful that I had this week off to mourn and refuse to get out of bed. And I'm so thankful for Charlene and Bobbi and Carly for forcing me out and making me feel normal again.
It's a new normal. Trying to find where I fit in this world without her. I'm probably doing a shitty job. But I'll get there.
Bringing her home let me pick up her stuff, pack up what I can donate, store away what I refuse to part with. There are a few things I still can't touch. Her chair, the last place I found her sleeping, her crinkle bag. Stuff I want to stay. But I don't feel so empty anymore, now that she's back with me.