...since Foxie went. Hard to believe. Life has been a very strange, dense haze since then, and about the only thing that has kept me sane (to whatever extent it has) is the writing and the long walks. Everything else has been a blur.
I have been defensive about writing too much about this in a public space (most of the thousands of words I have written about Fox in the past few months have been for myself) or even speaking about it with “friends”. But I do feel the need to put this down for my little girl without letting self-consciousness/awkwardness get in the way: no power on earth will convince me that what I have been feeling every day in the last few months is qualitatively different from what the parents of a human child would feel in the same situation. This has been a life-altering time in ways that I’m not close to being able to fully process or understand yet.
There, I said it (and if it sounds like grief porn, so be it). Do I feel better? Yes, and it may even last for a few minutes.
I have been defensive about writing too much about this in a public space (most of the thousands of words I have written about Fox in the past few months have been for myself) or even speaking about it with “friends”. But I do feel the need to put this down for my little girl without letting self-consciousness/awkwardness get in the way: no power on earth will convince me that what I have been feeling every day in the last few months is qualitatively different from what the parents of a human child would feel in the same situation. This has been a life-altering time in ways that I’m not close to being able to fully process or understand yet.
There, I said it (and if it sounds like grief porn, so be it). Do I feel better? Yes, and it may even last for a few minutes.
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