In the past three months-- I have had way too many of them.
My bitterness ranges from a small, annoying drip to crashing, powerful ocean waves.
I do not feel in control of this. Grief sucks, and I choose to not look to closely at it.This loss scares the hell out of me.
I don't know if I am going to make it out of the dark this time. Colors look blah, foods taste bland, and even music sounds flat. Often times, there is not enough air in the room --and I must escape.
I have little patience for small talk, and bite my tongue often.
It is easier to push people away.
Ten and a half month old puppies are not supposed to die. My "senior" dogs (that we lost this year also) had the luxury of time and so many happy memories with us. LB never had that time. We ran out of things to do to help him- and I am pissed about it.
It is easier to try to stay busy than it is to face truth. Easier is not necessarily better or healthier. This is why I am writing again. I am stuck in this oozing wound of loss of our fur babies.
Somehow-- I have to pull the hip waders on and walk through this shit called grief.
