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June 28, 2012 / Ronald Chapman

Feel Deal Heal

He spoke to Lincoln, who had settled comfortably beside him. “It feels like it’s all linked, boy. Loss is loss is loss. Clint. Mom. The guy I killed. Every pet that ever died.” He screwed up his forehead. “Hell, even me and alcoholism and Maria Elena and her incest. One continuous strand of loss and grief.”

Lucy bolted out of the brush then and collapsed beside them, tongue lolling as she panted. Pitcairn cupped a hand and squirted water into it as the boxer lapped at it noisily, droplets spraying.

He stared at Lincoln as the dog looked back at him through opaque eyes. “Even your eyes, buddy. Just one more thing to be grieved.” He patted the boxer’s head. “Loss is loss is loss.”

Turning his eyes to the western horizon, he remembered the words of a friend as the feeling of sadness welled up. “So many losses never tended, piling up waiting for expression.”  He shook his head with new appreciation for all he had failed to feel. “Feel, deal and heal,” he muttered one of AA’s mottos.


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