A few years ago, I sat down one day and cranked out a children’s book about my dog, “Boscoe.” He was fourteen at the time and my goal was to publish it while he was still alive. I was fortunate enough to have my friend around for two more years, but I didn’t end up meeting my goal. With logistics like illustrations, Photoshop, formatting, and publication, I just let it sit on the back burner. It’s not a regret, just a reality.
I’m probably one of the most blessed people when it comes to the outpouring of compassion I received when I lost my friend. I was allowed a flexible schedule at work and pet bereavement days out the wazoo. People who knew me well seemed to understand that, next to going insane, this loss was the hardest thing I’ve had to endure in my life.
Writing has always been a tool I’ve used to process life. No matter how dark a situation might be, I could somehow manage to put words to it through writing. I guess it’s been like a form of therapy. For the past several years, I’ve been practicing with trying to put my words towards life’s happy events.
It’s not that I can qualify this as a dark period, because “Boscoe” lived a full, happy life and all good things come to an end. But it’s more like, I have so much love that has nowhere to land anymore. The part of my heart that had to say good-bye is floating around, searching for a way to assign meaning, and I’m at a loss. I can’t form my words to articulate the depth of my love. But when I figure it out, I will publish his book, or maybe more than one. Rest in Peace, “Boscoe The Dancing Dog.”
To all who are feeling a loss, I send you warmth.