After Something Gets Too Many Holes, It Eventually Cannot Be Repaired

As if my family hadn't experienced enough loss in the past 10 months (Mr. Squiggles, Jim's Great Aunt, my Aunt Carole), my Uncle's dog, Sara, went missing a week ago. She and her sister, Amanda, dug a hole and escaped under the fence. Amanda was found. Sara was not.

Putting aside the fact that I love Sara, my heart is breaking for so many reasons. For one, it kills me to know what my Uncle is going through. He just lost his wife, my Aunt, seven months ago (has it been that long already?), and to lose one of their children...

And two, I've been providing advice on finding lost animals to both my Uncle and my Mom, who has been instrumental in trying to find Sara. This is bringing back all sorts of bad memories from the early days after Mr. Squiggles went missing. I remember the heartache, the fear, the confusion, the guilt, guilt, and more guilt, and the overwhelming urge to plunge headfirst into a lake and never come back up. I hate that my Uncle is going through this, and selfishly, I hate that I have too.

I don't know why bad things happen, and I don't understand a higher being who would heap so much suffering onto one family. I only hope with all hope that Sara will be brought home, and that, through some miracle, Mr. Squiggles will be too.