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They are questions to which I don’t know the answer, but unlike my guilt ridden rehashing I’m interested in seeking the answers and in a potential position to find out. Since I can’t rewind the past to fix my mistakes, there is a giftedness to being curious about the future. Endings are openings for change. 

I’m gagging some as I write that because it sounds so trite. I’m preparing my gut for a couple of sucker punches of grief. My beloved dog is dying. Judge away about whether that is worthy of grief, but in a house full of teenagers sometimes the dog is the steadiest reminder of the giftedness of life. I made the mistake of googling an assistive device to help her walk. It’s absurd and I regretted it the moment I saw dogs in walkers, but now the internet knows I’m close to letting her go and targets me with all kinds of dying dog ads.

I want to protect myself from the grief so there are all kinds of defense systems that are kicking in. There was even a moment when I thought of how clean my house could finally be without the hair (as if a clean house is a goal in my life). But here it is, we will accompany her to her death, cry loads, miss her tons, and bury her at one of our favorite spots (deep enough so the bears don’t dig her back up). And it will hurt like hell and we will keep living.


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