I passed into my 47th year on this planet a few days ago… unfortunately and unexpectedly my dog, Stas, didn’t pass his 7th on the same day. 8 months ago my best friend left before he could enter his 46th. The loss of both of them in such a short time has given me a perspective on death that I am not entirely comfortable with. Perhaps it is the reset in the grief process, whereas I wasn’t there for Eric when he passed, I held Stas as his last breaths left his body. It felt like taking the batteries out of my soul…the light that I thought I was rebuilding after losing Eric was now slowly dimming with this animals final moments.. Then the flood of impossibility… the questioning eyes of the other dogs….the chaos of the mind.
It was my birthday and the worlds gift to me was Death. Death I can understand because I’ve seen it’s face a lot in life. I’ve lost many in the past few years… not to Covid… but to time… mental illness… and their own hand. Death cares not about your intentions….it just is. The act of Death is a fleeting experience… one second they are there….the next they are a construct. Flesh without purpose. A box that what was important came in.
I buried Stas next to his pack brother, Licorice, on my birthday. I wrapped him in his favorite blanket, nestled a ball under his chin, and gave him one last hug before laying him into salted earth. I bellowed low and fell on the ground like having a tantrum… apologizing to him for not being able to save him. Apologizing for not spending as much time I thought I should have with him. Apologizing for not being able to cheat death for him. Then he was gone. He was now in the earth and there was nothing I could do.
The other side of Death’s coin is that of grief. Grief is a prison inside our heart where you send yourself without knowing. No matter how you try and prepare… that is where you end up. No short cuts or cheats. It’s this black hole of emotion that infects every aspect of your existence. An oily black sheen that you cant ever truly wash away. I haven’t said much about Eric, and I’m not ready to. I may never be ready to. Parts of my life will be forever dimmed from his passing. There are truly no words to express how much I appreciated his friendship and his loss will weigh on my heart til my last breath. I had never truly experienced the depths of grief until he was gone. But now that I have…I feel its crawling back out of it’s pit to bleed me from within. I write this not looking to sympathize or to process…but to tell you that I am not OK… and I’m ok with that.
Death and Grief have taught me that I am not alone. That I have had a connection to some wonderful souls…and in losing them… I have glimpsed the true meaning of love….and it’s OK to hurt…It’s OK to not be alright. I truly don’t expect anyone to understand it. Maybe I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to sit here and quantify what my friend and dogs lives meant to me in steps. I refuse to heal on anyone’s terms except my own and that’s such a odd feeling. Cause one moment I’m fine… and then I’m blubbering like a child… my hands clenched tight wanting to hit, kick and punch… at life.
Death has taught me humility about my life…and maybe that also comes with age. I dunno. I find many of the things I was so concerned with just a few years ago now seem pointless. I just want to be happy but don’t know if I have allowed myself to be without a bottle in my hand. I, unfortunately, try to tell people I’m a “realist” when ” pessimist” rings true.
I miss my friend… all of them.
Dirty White Walls 
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