There will never be enough pets.
In the three hours preceding Spot’s death, there were a hundred tiny heartbreaks. But as we sat there, the most selfish one of all was petting him. Because while we continuously ran our hands down his back, held his paws, scratched his head and captured his tail, I wanted so badly to fit a lifetime of pets in.
I think we all did the best that we could, but in the end it was an insurmountable task. Even if it had been Spot’s first hour, I know that even over the course of 12 years, it was not enough time.
There is never enough time.
For some things in life, we will be forever hungry. As we leaned in Eden, far more great and terrible is the burden of knowing instead of not knowing.
Many times over the course of a life, our worlds will be shattered by the people and things we love the most. To try to escape pain is to run into the labyrinth. There is no end. There will never be a point we reach where we say about these beloved people and things, our most prized possessions, that we have had our fill. There will never be a point where we find ourselves exhausted and empty, grasping at straws, immune from that hurt.
Unconditional love is everlasting. There is no way out.
There is always going to be a point where we are forced to either walk into pain so bright it nearly blinds, or to declare surrender. To continue to put one foot in front of the other is how we keep going.