Writing With a Sad Heart

I heard once Walter Dean Myers, one of my favorite children’s authors, said at a conference that when he was upset, he wrote. Writing, he said, is the only thing I can do when anger, despair or sadness overwhelm me.
Today, our eight-year-old family dog was put to sleep. It was a decision that our dog’s vet and us took together. When cancer is so advanced that no treatment will cure an animal, it seems the most human thing to do before the suffering becomes unbearable.
Deciding for an animal of its time of death is not an act to look forward to. It never seems to be the right moment neither the good choice. Choices are rarely painless acts.
Losing a pet reminds a family of its own limited time on earth and how animals who come into our lives are, in so many ways, more appreciative than us of the simple joy to be alive.  
Walter Dean Myers’ words came back to me this morning.  With a sad heart, I wrote. 
In honor of the only member of our family who never complained, never lost her temper, never had mood swings, and always embraced every day with enthusiasm and goofiness, I wrote. 

%d bloggers like this: