The story

I’ve managed to stay away from my house for the past few days – mostly – I had to come home to sleep. My place is filled to heaping with emptiness – quiet keeps me awake and silence wakes me up. I am missing my dog like crazy.

I know about this grief – I lost Olive less than a year ago, I haven’t forgotten that pain or loneliness. I’m grief’s ‘A’ student – my resume is as long as my arm. I have learned every loss is unique and this one has opened a fresh wound, just like all the others. I’m tired of losing – hell, this morning I’m just plain tired.

Chester was exactly who I needed in my life as I navigated the changes of the past few years. He was my distraction, my steady – the ball I couldn’t take my eye off. He was a dog on a mission, he was all consuming, always on the lookout for the next trouble he could get into – but he was fun and full of life. And now he’s not and I’m having a hard time knowing what to do with myself right now.

Chester lived most of his life on the end of a leash or being watched like a convict on day parole because… well, because Chester was Chester and Chester couldn’t be trusted not to kill himself. Everyone thought he would eventually do himself in – but he didn’t. Cancer got him.

In the four years I’ve been blogging Chester has had a starring role in twenty-one posts. I put miles on that dog – we witnessed life together. His life has been a story and he is part of the story of my life. Maybe there won’t be new stories to tell about Ches but I’m certainly not done talking (or writing) about him. He lives in story – and I’m thankful and sad about that in the same beat of my heart.