For You Bertie, on These So Called Pressures

We sat and talk, set apart by distance we were, but we sat and talk.
Me and my fears. You and these questions in your head.
It's perhaps not odd we uttered the same things.

"what are these people doing?" "why are they doing it?" "what am i doing?" "why do i do things the way i did?" "maybe because am unhappy right now? and thinking, perhaps if I did what they do I will be happy?"

How we crept slowly forward but feeling like we're quickly slipping backwards. How we're actually progressing but feeling rather more like retarded.

Perhaps it will cheer both of us if you let me quote a person we wish to be long forgotten (yet we keep eyes on from a distant corner, for we somehow still keep our pains alive inside):
"We're so alike we're like sisters."
"Let's continue this long trek together."
and finally,
"Friends makes me feel complete like a full circle."

Cheers, Bertie!

Obituary

It was so suddenly, we're not sure what to feel or think.

It's hard to imagine coming home,
and not have him welcoming us at the door with his tail wagging, his eyes shone.
It's hard not to feel the sudden quietness,
the silent that echoes through the house.
He will always be remembered as the youngest one,
the baby who slept by our bed,
the loyal one who accompanied us when we were sad and feeling feeble, and ...

Honestly, there won't be enough word in whatever language to describe this feeling of loss.



Yes,

It is hard to not miss the unconditional love he gave.



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I wish I can hold your hand J, cried half the portion of our collective sadness, bleed out the pain to stop it from capsizing and sinking your heart in deeper sorrow, darker bitterness, inconsolable anguish.

Hollow

Choci the yellow Labrador died this afternoon.