I really hate being at my parents' house because it's impossible for me to fall asleep at night without thinking about how much I miss my dog Tanner and fighting back tears for a long time until I eventually get exhausted or find some distraction. It's been almost two years since he died but it just doesn't stop hurting. I don't have this problem when I'm in Keith's bed, because it's not the house where I lived for nine years with Tanner and anyway I'm not alone. Keith is right there next to me and I don't have a reason to feel lonely. But when I'm alone in my bed, I have nothing to think about besides how badly I want Tanner with me, and there's no comfort. Death is the worst thing, because of its permanence. There's no resolution to the loss of a loved one. It's not just a temporary inconvenience. It's a big hole in your heart, an inconsolable hurt that will never ever go away. I remember vividly how it felt to wrap my arms around him and squeeze myself against his big furry chest, and I can only experience it as a painful memory. He's not here anymore, I can't hug him, and that void is so big and so strong that I can't help being overpowered by it. When we first brought Tanner home, I cried myself to sleep because I knew already that when he died someday, it would destroy me. I knew that I would have an emptiness inside me that could never be filled, and that I would have to go through all my years missing the best friend I'd ever known.

This is the baby that came into my life and filled me with a kind of love and happiness I never would have felt otherwise.