Maybe you’re thinking that my knowing Bao is already on his way back to me should be comforting me. It isn’t. Although I know it, I don’t believe it. How can I believe it? Other people don’t believe it. Other people think I’ve totally lost it. Maybe they’re right. I’m a mess.

I drive on. The sun sinks lower in the sky. The silent knowledge that Bao is on his way back to me does not ease the pain, but it’s there, and it is strong as ever. I shake my head. None of it makes sense. And it hurts so much.

Of course, not all dogs return to their owners. When they do, it is because a special bond exists between that dog and that person, a karmic bond that transcends death. Do you and your dog share this kind of special bond? Probably you do. You are reading this book because you are meant to read it.

I sit on the bed, staring sightlessly out the window at nothing. I want to die, and I can’t even do that because Bao is already on his way back to me and I have to be here for him.

I plod sadly through the hours, preparing meals I don’t want, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, collecting the mail and paying the bills. Bao’s psychic presence still remains strong, as does my certainty that he is coming back to me. But as strange as it may sound, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I am surrounded by pain, suffocated by pain, breathless with pain. I can’t imagine how it once felt, not to be in this constant, unrelenting pain.

I sit on the bed, staring sightlessly out the window at nothing. I want to die, and I can’t even do that because Bao is already on his way back to me and I have to be here for him. At this point I have no idea about how he’ll look, no picture in my mind, nothing like that. I just know he is coming back.

When the first shock of grief wears off, you realize this, and it can be devastating. It’s not just your husband that’s gone. The entire structure and underpinning of your life is gone as well. I suspect this is why many widows and widowers remarry so quickly.