09.05.19
i received a notification that my membership request for an online dog bereavement group had been accepted. i must have sent out the request several months ago. and to be quite honest, i had totally forgotten about having ever done this.
now i cannot recall what prompted sending off this request other than some voyeuristic curiosity to confirm that there would be pathetic owners in this world who struggle to grieve their pets, the way i am certain that i would struggle to grieve mine. but of course not nearly anyone would put in the effort of articulating it as such in a group. i have not even clicked upon my confirmation to go look at what all is behind the veil, because i think i know already: lots of christian grandmothers, posting pictures in the style of outdated '90s graphic art, depicting "our lord and savior" holding a bleached golden retriever in his arms, or perhaps a kitten with a halo imprinted on its crown.
how easy it must be to lean on such cognitive shortcuts when picking up on the slightest aroma of difficult feelings. i think perhaps it is hard for me to admit that i am envious that these ladies have one another and their "lord and savior" to carry the weight of such soulful burdens. it is unfortunate that the magic trick of religion never seems like it would work once you have lifted up the curtain to consider what human needs or failings are behind the efficacy or appeal of such technology.
perhaps once or twice a day, i look at chanda and try to consider how i am feeling about her today. it is my own private ritual to internalize and remind myself of her mortality, because i think it would be irresponsible to suppress such fragile facts: knowing how much she means to me, how much she provided a first taste of stability in my life since waking up from that useless slumber of insular and oppressive, suburban adolescence.
i have to seriously consider now why my former lover shared his prediction: if any one event were to contribute to my suicide, it would be the loss of my dog.