There is always Hope
After a two-year battle with cancer, we had to put our beloved boxer, Hope, down. These are the first days in nine and a half years that I’ve woken up and haven’t had a dog. The world feels completely different. Flat. Dull. I’m deep in grief, but writing is how I process and I wanted to memorialize her in print. Print is corporeal; you can touch it and smell it. Physical presence is what death takes from us and the loss of a pet’s physical presence is all-consuming. Their sounds are the background soundtrack you take for granted — until they are gone. The silence is the first thing that strikes me when I walk in the door. It’s suffocating. It’s an emptiness so vast I want to scream into the void she left. My stomach is in knots and I want to crawl out of my skin.
