I’ve always said that I want to experience as much of the world and life as I can, not only to inform my writing but to become a more whole person. Today I regret ever asking for “as much of life as possible” because I hate the hard times.
This weekend has been very hard. In a recent post I talked about one of my cats who was very ill. On Friday, the vet suggested euthanasia because our sweet girl was not going to get better, and had steadily (and rapidly) gotten worse despite our best efforts. We opted to bring her home with pain meds and sedatives, expecting that she would not survive Friday, let alone Saturday and in to Sunday. And despite the medication, she was suffering. Yesterday afternoon we took her to an emergency pet care facility to say goodbye. It is so unfair that she had to go that way, that she had to be so sick.
I know that my cat is no longer in pain. I know that someday this grief will subside into bittersweet memories.
All of our experiences, good, bad, and in-between teach us things about who we are and what life is. For writers, experiences such as these add depth to our craft, even if they are some of the worst experiences. If there was ever a “bright” side, it would be that. But there isn’t a bright side. Only an understanding side and a devastated side.