You hold loss in your bones. Not at first — at first the pain is in your stomach, lungs, chest, and every nerve in your body. But, as punch-you-in-the-face obnoxious as the expression is, time heals. And the pain releases you from its iron clenches. Like a scraggly old dog, it curls up and settles in your bones. Mostly it sleeps. But there’s a few sure-fire ways to agitate it awake. These things are what we call triggers — a word that is overused and sometimes mocked, but damn friend, if you have a pain-dog in your bones, you know what it feels like when it wakes up.
For everyone who has a pain-dog, I am so sorry for you. I feel profoundly for you. Yesterday was the kind of day where dogs were either awakened or created. The anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombings. The destruction of Notre Dame, a stunning symbol and precious part of history. The shocking death of a colleague who was beloved by many. The tragedies everywhere that happen as frequently as we breathe. It fucking sucks. There’s not much to say that doesn’t sound trite; just keep feeding everything good inside you — the compassion, authenticity, creativity, awe, generosity, dreams, uninhibited love. The dog will eventually go back to sleep.