It is not easy...

I have lost so many people

close to my heart

in the last few years,

my Mom, my Dad

and some more.

I wish I could just

stay numb to the pain…

It’s almost like,

I am in another place.

I see it, but I don't.

I hear it, but I don’t.

I have to process this.

I have to go through

this grieving process… again.

I am no different from

anyone else, everyone loses

family and friends.

I will take my time to

remember my friend…

He was a special friend

and companion to me,

day in day out.

My friend for

the last 7 years…



Mourning and grief:

they say grief is a gift,

But it doesn't feel

much like a gift.

It feels like loss

and guilt and

great emptiness.

After May 21,

the world stopped

dead in its tracks,

at least for me

and that tiny microcosm

that is my personal space

in this world...



Through the hurt and loss,

I endure...

I love you, Jun.









A Death in the Family



Shattering event, I'm still shaking, one of the saddest I've ever had.



There is nothing wrong with dying - every living thing is sparked to life and then eventually rides into the sunset roaring off toward the horizon some time or the other. 

But because the feeling of sudden abandonment, a big gaping hole they classify as ‘void’, emotion becomes messy.



Because it was Junjun’s time to go, it would be churlish to deny the surreal impact of his dying.What lies beyond physical life? Maybe it's all one big con trick. But it does have a bearing on how we live in this world. As he lay with dazed eyes I somehow knew the death agony had began.



The ghastly sound of his painful moans and cries ceased suddenly at dawn of the 21st of May during a heaven-sent rain that lasted only for a short time while he lays lifeless on that cold, cold hospital table. With that last, last breath his beloved and beautiful soul had fled, and the silence was more deathly than all else. As long as he breathed he was there still. But now all was over.



His illness dragged on against all odds. He was a loving, gentle and brave dog but when the time came, he struggled on refusing to give in. Being just as brave as he, 

I thought I'd be prepared at the end. But, no way. 

I shattered like an infant, unable to think straight for hours. Any activity, any motion, anyone and anything seemed ludicrously trivial in the face of death…



Then, much later, it felt like he was speaking to me 

"It's OK, I have given my all, I have said my goodbyes, and I will now reach for the other side". For the first time its complete meaning hit me inexplicably, far greater than the act of dying.



The house is unnaturally quiet now, devoid of that life that was always there, always waiting for me, waiting for me to walk through the door.



Suddenly, I was alone and those happy years with Junjun came pouring into my mind. It was like a message from my Dad, that whatever the transition was, it had passed and he was at peace. Totally, insanely illogical, I cried and understood the loss and the pain.



In this, I confess, rather gloomy context, Junjun offers hope. You ask, like, how? I hardly dare to imagine a brighter future after his death. Mostly, I may just aim to muddle through life or just forget.



There has got to be a moral purpose to this. His life was happy and full; sometimes triumphant, sometimes merely defiant. He was surrounded and kept in the loving arms by those who peopled his wonderful world.



We laughed and wept in adversity, mourned and celebrated Junjun’s existence in equal measure. He reminds us that, even if we had lost him, we should never abandon the possibility of something better like the love he made us all feel and the LOVE we all have for him.



Shattering, yes. How much he suffered. This is coping with grief, from an inescapable reality to finality.



So maybe up wherever he is, he's wagging his tail at the irony....