What if with each loss, all the other losses just compound and crush me?
What if it is and will always be too much?
What if I can't forget any of the times death came through?
I've cried for a dead dog on the road before my parents split - so before 8 years old. Maybe 6... Maybe 7... Maybe younger because why wasn't I in school and going with my mom to work?
And I cry for roadkill now at 35.
Maybe because I recently carried our dead nursery cat in from the road.
Why do people not realize how much life is out of our control?