Journal: Entry for Joel

And it does. But it still hurts a lot. Not knowing why hurts. Not being there in the last hours of someone who was always there for me hurts. Spending every other day obsequiously satisfying the people who knowingly kept me away THAT day, even though it cost them hundreds of dollars and served no purpose, hurts. Seeing him all the places I used to play with him for the entire 12.5 years of his life hurts. Remembering hurts. I miss my boy. But it's OK, because, somehow, my doggy always knows when I'm hurting and comes along to put his little head on my leg and stare up at me adoringly until everything is... aw, hell....