Today my dog died. He lived a long and prosperous life, about 90 years in human years. He was a friend, a confidante, a companion, a source of comfort and peace. He'll be happier in doggy heaven. My parents buried him beside the coconut tree in my backyard where he used to love to dig up holes.
I never knew it could hurt this much when your pet dies. I'm not even a pet person, not really. My dog was more my brother's dog- he was the one who took care of Raven and bathed him and fed him and took him for walks. I hardly contributed.
No one likes talking about death, but when death happens to someone close to you, you realise how hard it hits. I wonder why dogs were created so loyal - more than most human beings. Dogs will still return to you after you've left them out in the dark, or forgotten to give them food for the day, or ignore the rubber ball they fetch you.
You never expect death to happen to you. Everyone know it's there, and everyone know it's at the end of the tunnel. But no one ever expects death to come, even when it's most expected. I hope my brother will be okay.
RIP, Raven boy.