Like a great Canadian darkness, I will cover you. Nothing will harm us, I will protect you. So tell me what you need, you bring me to my knees and I’m tired of running. Tired of moving life around. How do we deal with this? Treat each day as the gift it is. I don’t wanna be running til I’m under ground.

Boy does this song make me cry like a baby, specifically the acoustic version. Back in January when this came out, it hit me like a freight train. A song about the fragility of life and how each moment should be embraced, while I’m still spiraling from finding out my dog had terminal cancer.

To listen to a song about the fragility of life while you experience the fragility of life has beauty to it if you look hard enough, on the outside it’s excruciatingly painful. Painful things can be beautiful, just look at love as a whole.

For me the struggle I had with the song and why I felt so connected to it is I have this beautiful animal, who’s sick with cancer, and can’t communicate her needs. While me and Presley often communicated without words, this was different. It was like she felt like she was letting me down by being sick. She wasn’t. That dog could have walked out on me like her mom did and she still wouldn’t have been letting me down.

And in this moment I felt like I had to step up and do something “Nothing will harm us, I will protect you”. I’ve written a couple of letters to Presley and every time I do I cry harder than anything else has ever made me cry. One of the letters I wrote I apologized, I said sorry that I didn’t protect her.

I’m not sure it’s the grief I’m struggling to cope with, it’s the guilt. The guilt of not protecting her better. The wonder if I fed her the wrong diet, gave her the wrong treats, the wrong toys. I send myself into spirals wondering if I could have done something to stop that dog from getting cancer, all of it selfishly. When I decided to put her down the day came and it was like she knew it was her time. I didn’t cry in front of her that day, I held it and let her know I was okay, and it was okay, and she was okay.

None of it was fucking okay. I was a mess, I still am. She wasn’t okay, she had some fucking cancer wreaking havoc on her poor little body. and it wasn’t okay, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

I’ve had so many family members die in my life, none of it effected me like this.

The effect her death has had on me has been overwhelming and profound. My sister recently asked if I was passed her death and I lied. I lied because how do you tell someone you’re not sure you’ll ever be over the death.

I’m not sure I’ll ever move past it because I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for it, if I’ll ever stop wondering if it’s my fault, if I could have prevented it, treated it better.

Truth be told if one of us had to have cancer, I wish it was me. I wish I had it and she got to go on, living a happy life with her mom. At least then I would have lost all of me that day instead of most of me. A part of me I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.

I have her ashes and I’m considering heading to Halifax, Nova Scotia on the anniversary of her death to see a City and Colour concert and spread her ashes. She never got to go to Canada with me but I know she would have loved it. Seeing them play this song on that day would be a really special and full circle moment. I’m just not sure I have the courage to do it.

Where the skies are gold not gray, J.