I am so pleased that I'm in town so I could attend my Talking On Paper writing group. I wanted to share what I wrote to read aloud.

Chester living it up before the chaos

I thought back on my first experience with grief which was a direct result of my first experience with love. Chester Do Good Saffell was the runt of a litter of new Bassett Hounds chosen, and named, by my much older brother, Chuck. Chuck assumed his title of “Only Child” would endure forever. Chester was my parents’ second son. Boy and Dog spent several years of human/canine bliss before my parents shockingly expanded their family with two babies born within 10 months of one another when Chuck was 15.

For Chuck, Chester was probably a lifeline to normalcy. Needing to take him on walks was an escape from the chaos two children so close in age generated every moment of every day. He was a confidant, someone who would listen to Chuck’s list of all life’s unfairnesses. He loved unconditionally and truly was Chuck’s.

For me, Chester was a constant presence. He was there through my infancy, toddlerhood, and early childhood. He was the guard at the crib, the floor cleaner at the high chair, the support for a teetering new walker, and the warm comfort for boo-boos and timeouts.

I was the one, at age six, who discovered Chester when he died. Six. I remember it clearly. Even so young, I felt the loss.

Of all the loves I have lost, his presence was the shortest in my life. Perhaps because my heart was so small when he captured it, it filled a larger, forever space. Or perhaps as they say, we never forget our first love.