Observations on Sadness.

My dog died in May. May 11th, to be exact. It was a beautiful Monday morning. Well, we said our last goodbye on that beautiful Monday afternoon, but it was that morning when I suspected the end might be very near. It’s not something I really want to get into here though, because it’s one of those circumstances for which it seems there aren’t many words.

Sometimes, there just aren’t any words. Sadness can do that. Take your words away. Pack them up. Close the lid.

Though I don’t have much to say about the experience of losing someone so integral to the last 15 years of my life, her passing has given me other words. Words to generate ideas, develop characters, write stories. Words that shape and give life to other creations from within me.

Sadness can do that sometimes. Transform you into a conduit for other expressions.

And so, here is an observation. It is not about my sweet puppylove. Those memories and experiences are my own, but I know they will inevitably come out in little poems of ideas later. This is an observation on sadness.

It’s a strange feeling, sadness. Really, it’s more like a place than anything else. Like an empty room on the other side of a small, lonely door in your heart. This room is cold and empty of furniture, but heavy with other things. Things that are hard to say out loud. As if words don’t exist for them.

I don’t very much like to go into this room. 

In addition to its strangeness, sadness can also change things. It can make the world an alien place. Almost unrecognizable, but not completely. There is usually a small kernel of familiarity. Just enough to make you feel off-keel. The sky starts to look different. The moon frowns at you, tilting its head in sympathy and the stars dip low like glowing strings of light tacked to the everlasting night. They hang in their own sad way. Even sunlight becomes a stranger. It shines a little differently. Its rays beam through the clouds in haunting shades of white, pulling shadows into long, painful stretches that feel like they’re pressing you down into the scratchy grass with them.

You might even begin to feel a little like a shadow yourself. Thin. Tethered to a figure that once looked kind of like you.

Your heart beats somewhere between a sink and a float and you wonder if the sky will ever look the way you remember it. That simple blue.

You might even catch melancholy glances coming from the trees. They shift their gazes slowly toward you as you walk underneath their shade. Big, leafy, swaying elephants watching you. They know. 

….Our Own Little Sad Rooms….

We tend not to invite others into our sad rooms with us.

They’re not the most comfortable places for others.

No one likes to be sad, and there’s nowhere to sit anyway.

It would be nice to have someone to sit next to on the floor with me, though. Then at least we could lean against each other as we wait. 

That’s the other thing about sad rooms. You can do a lot of waiting in them. It’s a profoundly lonely place, sadness.


Maybe if we keep the small, lonely doors to our sad rooms open, someone will come in….

Sadness and loneliness are old friends, though. Sadness welcomes loneliness. And when you’re lonely, you have a lot of time to think. Things can get…confusing. You start to feel things. Lots of things. They stir. Twist.


Feelings can be like piles of knotted rope inside you; they rarely operate by themselves. Of course, sadness and loneliness work together a lot. So do happy and excited. Calm and thoughtful, those two are often together. Sometimes you can feel calm, sad, lonely, thoughtful and ashamed. Sometimes it’s guilty, embarrassed and angry all at the same time. The feelings get all tangled up with one another and impossible to unravel. At least, my feelings are usually jumbled up, taking forever to figure out, untie the knots.

Sometimes it seems like we’re all so afraid of unraveling. We make the tension worse.

What are we all so afraid of?

Maybe if we all worked together to untie our emotional knots, we could use the ropes… like little lifelines to toss out to one another from our solitary, drifting boats. Or tie them together to reach a little farther.

I wish I could untie my sad, lonely knot and throw the rope overboard. Maybe someone would catch it.

Pull me into shore….

….That’s All For Now….

These ideas have come from me, of course, but they are really the thoughts of a character I am developing for a story.

The ideas are rough and raw, and I am throwing them out there.

It’s been far too long, but this blog has been walked.

Now it’s time for bed. Thanks for reading.

Accompanying sketch to come soon….

Oh, and I officially registered walktheblog.com!

So if you type that into your url search bar, it will connect you directly to this sight. Woot!


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