Spring is here, summer is coming, and the birds are singing outside – but the world outside scares me. They have nothing to offer me, and I no longer have a reason to go out. Was he just a crutch to lift me out of my brokenness, that when he was taken, all it left was a larger hole? But I needed him. Small, independent dog that he was, he brought life to me – and with his death… there is no light here in the darkness. I needed him still.
I am not sleeping these days. First in fear, and now I mourn – and I beg for someone to make it better. Not to take the pain, for that only shows how deeply I loved him, but… to make it right. To fix the brokenness. To bring Gryff home to me. To fill the hole, and stop it from growing. I needed him. I need him still.
My pastor says we become complacent in comfort, and turn to God in pain – but all I can cry is, “Oh God, no. Please, no.” When I’ve prayed in so many ways for His help, and they’re lost anyway… my kids, my pets, Chiku, Puss, Gryff… and all are taken no matter how I beg, and how hard I try…
I am crying out for Mercy. Please, mercy. I can’t keep going like this. I don’t want to live. Please Father, mercy. And the pain grows.
Comfort is not something I take for granted. There has been too little – for the pain, and the fear I carry with me until I can hardly breathe. Comfort reminds me that God is in control, and I am thankful when it comes. The pain reminds me of the fear and brokenness. I am always trying to escape, and it is hard to remember that God is in control when the pain and fear are so much I can hardly think.
And there is this hole where my dog should be. I could only live again once he was with me – when my children were taken, and all I could do was hide in my room, and life itself brought pain and fear. Walking, camping, boating… I could only do these again when he was with me. I had to ask for a dog. My husband was never an animal person. It was hard to speak, but I needed him, or the future was a void I could not face.
I feel as if I could shrivel up again and hide. I never healed from that time – I guess that is the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I would like to say that I could overcome. People like to believe that is possible for all of us. But at some point, the pain is too much – the experiences too much – and all we can do is exist, or die with the pain.
I would like to say I am emotionally resilient – I should be, my faith is strong still – but I am not. Emotionally fragile. Every pain is added to the ones before, and the healing doesn’t come. But he helped, this dog of mine. He helped a lot. He brought so much more to me than any understand – even God, maybe, or why would he take him so soon?
Six years. No matter how long, it is never enough – but six years? I should have had him twice as long. And no one can answer my pain. Like Job – only not, because I know I deserve all the pain I get. So all I can do is cry, “mercy.”