scijessreads

Loss can be a funny thing. 

Small losses can feel like a huge inconvenience, large losses feel distant, and every type of loss in between feels like a paper cut. 

We all lose something. Someone. 

It’s a matter of when, where, and how (and maybe, why). 

We will all lose people. We will become someone who is lost. 

The question remains, “How do we deal?” 

Do we bury it deep and pretend, or do we sink into its arms and allow it to hold us down, drown us in the waves of tears and grief and anger? 

Maybe eventually the drowning pull will loosen, and let us break free to find a full breath again. 

And how is grief changed when you can prepare for it, rather than have it catch you off guard?

In the build-up, it is a simmering ache. Bubbles beneath the surface. 

And when it finally comes? Everything cracks, it rushes through, and cascades in waves. 

Drowning on dry land, unable to see a horizon. 

Always thankful for the moments of grace. Of love. Even in the heartbreak. 

Because a heart can’t break if it wasn’t full of love to begin with. A heart can’t ache if it is empty. A heart can’t yearn and grieve if there had been nothing of substance to tether it to in the first place.

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I had to say goodbye to the pup. Almost 15 years of snuggles and ear scritches and an ever-present shadow. Big, soulful eyes that you could get lost in (the better to beg you with). A bed hog that was spoiled (and rightfully so). My hiking buddy and ride-or-die.

She was a dog I never wanted. And the dog that found me anyway.

It was kismet.

She was a dog that I can’t imagine never having met. She changed me. She was the best first dog. One ear always up. The best at curling up into small spaces. The best at napping (especially in the sun).

The best Bubs. The best Honey Bunch. The best Pupcake.

She loved her people (Megan, Barry, my Parents) and being outside.

I miss her dearly. I think I always will.