One Of Those Days

You can't be prepared for bad news, unless you've been worn down by expecting it.  & then there's the shock when you realize you weren't prepared for it at all.

Two years ago today, I lost a beautiful dog, a dog who, when I met him, I didn't think much of, & didn't know I'd come to love.  But we became good friends, our relationship was one I don't often experience with humans, & his loss shook me more than I could have imagined.  Two years ago, on this night, I drank a lot of whiskey, & didn't get drunk.  That's how I learned how powerful grief really is.

I'm not superstitious at all - my mother is, & was taught how to be cripplingly so by her own mother - but I have sloughed off that dangerous nonsense.  Still, anniversaries are celebrated & remembered, so perhaps this anniversary was in my mind, & affected my emotional defenses.

Sober now, I'm working on a radio show I'll do tomorrow.  I've been called in to sub.  I want to talk about things, I want to try to deal with this news, but everyone's asleep, except for the cats, who are not the most empathetic creatures.  So I'll struggle through the night, say goodbye to this anniversary, & steel myself (futilely) to the next one.

Until such thing as it's just another sad scar on my hurt, & I am used to its pain.