For obvious reasons, you will never medal in the grief olympics when your dog dies. You won't even make the team. Possibly no one outside your immediate circle will notice, and not two weeks after the event, a friend will ask if you still feel bad.
But from inside, it feels different. I am lonely for my friend, who I loved and cared for daily for more than thirteen years. I miss the smell of her head, and the sound of her breathing and the way she was always there. The house is very quiet.
I expected to feel sad, but I am kind of taken by surprise by the existential turn of my thoughts. Ashes to ashes stuff. It's like I'm in a hole where nothing makes any difference and what does any of it matter and it's all lost in the end anyway and there's no god and I can hear the emptiness of space, etc.
That's why I'm not doing much here, because I'm aware of, on one hand, hello hyper-melodrama and on the other, oh my word my heart is broken and oh look my guts are all hanging out and I'm sure that isn't good.
I must admit, I did find this bizarrely comforting as well as fucking funny, so maybe read that instead.
(And now this my most recent post and not that last one. Thank fuck for that.)
Still on the Fringe(s)
4 weeks ago