What I Realized When My Sister’s Dog Died that Shook Me to My Core

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and all the animals she had ever loved. You’d have to be blind not to see it.</p><p id="8b10">And it got me thinking, why do we ever let go of the realization of loss? When it’s such a fundamental human experience, perhaps the most defining one after love itself, why does our gaze ever lower from it?</p><p id="77af">I don’t have an answer. I truly don’t know. When I’ve been grieving, nothing can console me. Like my sister is now, I’ve been helpless in the face of the universe’s extreme power over us, that of life and death.</p><p id="e7fa">I wish there was a way to bridge the gap between this suffering and knowingness, and the peace that comes with forgetting. It would help us both times, when we’re face to face with the infinite, and when we’re caught up in living life.</p><p id="ad94">I know that my sister’s experience was devastating to her, and I am very sorry for her loss. And yet, a small part of me is grateful that I’ve had this realization at a time when I’m not personally vulnerable or affected. Perhaps I’ll be able to channel some of the sense of awe and humility to my normal, waking life, and if I’m lucky, some of the comfort that comes with the closed third eye.</p><h1 id="1232">I hope that I am able to bridge these two worlds</h1><p id="6590">I expect that only then comes an awareness of capital T Truth.</p><p id="6e1f">If you

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What I Realized When My Sister’s Dog Died that Shook Me to My Core

How can we ever forget? And yet we do, each and every time

I’m a cat person. Let me start this story with the admission that Thor’s death would not affect me as much as it did my sister. Dogs actually scare me, and I’m uncomfortable around them.

And yet, I’m certainly able to see how my sister was comforted and loved by her dog, and I am very grateful that he was part of our family.

Here’s the thing

When Thor died, my sister was thrown into that crazy, shaky, uncertain space we all enter when someone we love is gone forever. And this is what I couldn’t help but notice, that she was immediately taken back to every other major loss she had ever experienced.

It was like she had access to a time machine. Outside of her gaped a huge hole, one which had taken our mom, her father, her two best friends, her boss, her marriage, and all the animals she had ever loved. You’d have to be blind not to see it.

And it got me thinking, why do we ever let go of the realization of loss? When it’s such a fundamental human experience, perhaps the most defining one after love itself, why does our gaze ever lower from it?

I don’t have an answer. I truly don’t know. When I’ve been grieving, nothing can console me. Like my sister is now, I’ve been helpless in the face of the universe’s extreme power over us, that of life and death.

I wish there was a way to bridge the gap between this suffering and knowingness, and the peace that comes with forgetting. It would help us both times, when we’re face to face with the infinite, and when we’re caught up in living life.

I know that my sister’s experience was devastating to her, and I am very sorry for her loss. And yet, a small part of me is grateful that I’ve had this realization at a time when I’m not personally vulnerable or affected. Perhaps I’ll be able to channel some of the sense of awe and humility to my normal, waking life, and if I’m lucky, some of the comfort that comes with the closed third eye.