When I decided to reduce my blog posts to three a week, and then proceeded to continue writing until I was scheduling three weeks in advance, I understood the benefit in terms of getting through my vacation. I did not, however, realize just how much I would rely on those pre-scheduled posts in the weeks to come.
It has been 5.5 weeks since my dog died – and yes, that is a compulsion of mine, to count the days, weeks, and months from an intense experience. In the beginning I probably wrote too much about that pain – for it was my loss, and not exactly a shared experience. Eventually, however, the words became repetitive, and the need for other topics was strong.
I tried. I really did try to think of other things, but my mind… On very few occasions have I been successful, and for the most part I have failed to keep up. Failure, like so many things, snowballs as I fixate on it. Had I not so many posts already written when this event cut through my world, that might have been the end of my blog.
However, since I did make that decision before I knew how important it would be, I do not actually feel that failure has yet occurred, and the compulsion to continue on this schedule remains strong.
Five and a half weeks. Today I am lying in my tent at ‘the lake’ with my new dog, Clara. And though he has died, and though it was hard to come without him – he loved it so – I feel him stronger here than I have in weeks. It brings me peace, and frees me to make new memories with Clara. Not that she replaces him, but more that I can see him experiencing this right along with her.
And you know? Clara seems to love camping, too. So maybe healing will come. And maybe I can write again. For now, I am thankful for decisions I made before I ever had any idea how important they would be.