Just over a year ago Coal died. Early in the week I tried to sit down and write about my old dog. I found I couldn't. I struggle with the the fact that forgetting is a part of grieving and healing. When I was 15 my friend Sean died. After a time no one talked about him and I was furious. I was young and I could not understand how people had "just forgotten about him". It seemed like a betrayal. It made the loss real. I wanted to hold on. More then 20 years later, I still remember him. Memory is strange. I doubt everything I remember about him is accurate. I remember some odd, disconnected pieces, like standing in line with him to get our report cards. I have no doubt there is much I've forgotten too. What comes first to my mind is Sean's goofy laugh. The memory that comes first and strongest, when I think of Coal, is security and comfort. I would lay on the floor with him. Sometimes I'd give him a hug, and sometimes push my face against his big furry body and