Still Missing Mac

Mac died eating pizza.  My beautiful black standard poodle, MacDermott, loved pizza. He loved it so much that I could never order just a small because then there wouldn't be enough to share with him.  He was a big guy, and he could easily eat 2 or 3 pieces.
The day before he left this earth, I ordered two pizzas; a lunch special for me, and a Hot and Ready for him, mostly, but also for my supper. 
He was thrilled.  He ate his slices, plus all of my crusts with enthusiasm.
He actually knew what it meant if I asked, "Mac, should I order pizza?" He'd bark and wag his tail and leap about, happy and joyful while I phoned in an order, and would immediately run to the window and wait, on high alert, for the delivery guy to arrive.  As soon as the car pulled into the driveway it would be met with a volley of deep "Woofs!".  I'd say, "Mac, go in the bird room so I can answer the door," and he would zoom into the spare room and wait for me to close the door.
After I paid the driver I'd let Mac out and he'd dance around me, his nails pattering on the floor while I served up the pizza.  I had to cut Benji's piece into tiny bits so his little mouth could chew it, but for Mac, I'd just set the slices on a plate, wait for them to cool enough, and set the plate down.
God, how he loved pizza.
It's fitting then, that he went out eating pizza, happy til the very end. 
I on the other hand, have not been able to eat pizza since.  It's been a short time, but I've been offered pizza 3 times and had to pass it up each time. 
All of Mac's foods are hard for me to eat.  I made a grilled cheese yesterday and it hurt my heart to use the cheese that I normally used to wrap his pills with. 
I also keep taking more food than I can eat when I make up a plate. It's a 12 year long habit that I got into while Mac was alive because I always had to share, and I'd end up hungry if I didn't take extra. 
I took Benji for a walk in Mac's stroller again tonight, and that was hard too.  It was not technically only Mac's stroller; I bought it for both dogs, but Mac always got more rides because Benji sleeps a lot and would often be sound asleep when I took Mac for rides.
Poor Mac only got to go for strolls around the neighbourhood because he was too big for me to be able to put both the dog and the stroller in my truck.  Little Benji, a toy poodle, can easily fit on my passenger seat, leaving the whole back of the Chevy Blazer for the stroller.  So tonight I took him to Belleview Park and the Boardwalk, and he loved it.  Mac would have loved it too, but I couldn't do that with him.
In order to put the stroller in to the back of the Blazer, I had to take Mac's stuff out. Out came the pop up crate, and the big cushions and pillows. I had to put everything in the garage, to make room for the stroller.
So much of my life, my house, my truck, was filled with Mac and his stuff. It's so weird now to have it gone.
I still have his ashes. I still haven't gone to camp to spread them. I can't bring myself to go, somehow. Maybe I'm just not ready.
I really loved that dog.  He was like a child to me, my baby boy.  I love Benji too, and am trying to give him extra care because he is grieving and missing Mac too.
I know some people probably think I'm crazy for going on so about losing my Mac, but even though I'm able to distract myself with walks and bike rides and reading, I still miss him and think about him, and there's a big emptiness in my home and my heart; a void that he used to fill.
I know he's happy and at peace now, his spirit no longer trapped in a failing body, and for that, I'm grateful.
My best friend's Dad is dying of cancer, and it is a horrible way to go.  A slow, lingering, wasting away that is hard on him and on his family. 
With dogs, we can end their suffering and let them go peacefully, but with people we can only wait and pray, hoping for either a miracle or a quick end to their suffering.
If only people (and dogs) would go quietly and peacefully, in their sleep, instead of suffering.  I wish there was no suffering in this world.