I weigh constantly what is too dark and what is too painful to write. What is too personal? As long as I don’t share names, does that make it safe? Once upon a time, writing was the only release, the safe place to feel every emotion that comes with painful experience, and sometimes it just feels too raw to put it into font. Sometimes I have to force it onto the page in front of me. Sometimes I try to look away as my hands move, like maybe if my eyes aren’t on it, I won’t have to feel it as hard.

I deal with death daily. Most often in my field it is animal death. But I also work in a field with a skyrocketing suicide rate. Death is a gift I have personally given to patients. It’s a looming weight I’ve held on my shoulders trying to save lives. The support I would offer any human in my life struggling, that is a heavy weight too. Every day, I choose to carry that. Because they deserve it. They deserve that caring.

I’ve come to realize I’m getting to an age as an adult where I will ultimately be losing more people I love. To age, to illness, to mental health. 

When an animal dies, we think of all of the things the pet did in it’s life that made it a happy pet. Did that cat like hoarding fake mice? Did that dog thump its tail every time an owner approached? Did it chase balls and fetch? Did that pet have the time to live the life a dog would want, no matter the age we ultimately say goodbye?

When humans die, people worry about things unsaid. Things undone. Did that person know peace in the end?  I’ve seen some painful people in my life. Illness notwithstanding, I’ve seen the loss of those who have struggled with addiction, lack of self-worth, victims of abuse and circumstance. These are the ones that hurt my heart the most. The ones who never could seem to get on top of their pain. And what hurts, is the worry that they didn’t know they deserved so much more. They deserved the happiness they couldn’t find. They deserved warmth and love, even when they couldn’t see it had been there for them all along.

Maybe peace in the end makes up for that pain. Maybe that warmth at the end makes up for the cold they knew before. Maybe their pain is all left behind, and exists as grief in the hearts of those that feel the loss.