(no subject)
Back to Livejournal because it's the place I don't feel like I need to hide. We lost our dog Charlie a few weeks ago. He was 18, so he had a really good innings, but of course that means nothing when you love someone. He was the best dog. So sweet, so gentle. Little dogs like him have the reputation for being yappy and ill-tempered, but he was the most wonderful thing. He might have huffed under his breath, but he'd never bark. I was so lucky to have spent so much time with Charlie. Not just those formative years when he was young and I was living at home, but after that. When my parents would go overseas and he'd spend weeks-months here because I was the one who owned my own home. When my parents were helping us renovate and they'd always bring him down and he'd find a quiet corner. Every single Wednesday when we'd play trivia and the folks would leave him here while we'd go to the pub.
Early on it's easy, in a way. You cry and people expect it. You mourn and that's normal.
But then you get to a point and people think "Why are you still crying?"
I read somewhere recently that grief is love without a home. And I feel that. I loved that boy. He occupied such a massive place in my heart. And my heart is broken and empty. And I don't know how to fill it. It don't know how to be fine. And I really don't know how to pretend that I am.
Early on it's easy, in a way. You cry and people expect it. You mourn and that's normal.
But then you get to a point and people think "Why are you still crying?"
I read somewhere recently that grief is love without a home. And I feel that. I loved that boy. He occupied such a massive place in my heart. And my heart is broken and empty. And I don't know how to fill it. It don't know how to be fine. And I really don't know how to pretend that I am.
