I wrote soon after Red died that a dog is not a person, and he lived a full and meaningful life. We often rationalize our grief by comparing it to the grief of other people, or to tragedies that seem so much worse, and quite often are.

I am acutely aware that everyone has their battles to find, and everyone has it worse than me.

Still, I wrote that day, Loss Is Loss, no matter how one cuts it or rationalizes it or compares it to other losses. And it follows that Grief Is Grief. The quote came in a message from my friend Eve Marko.

I got this beautiful message in my Post Office Box this morning (P.O. Box 205, Cambridge N.Y., 12816.

It was from Lynn. “A few weeks ago,” she wrote, “my husband of 51 years died. I wasn’t able to cry until I read your list of things you miss about Red. “Loss is Loss..”

“Please take the following blog donation and use it for yourself. Take Maria out to lunch.”

I can’t add anything to that letter that could possibly be more honest or eloquent.

Loss Is Loss. Or piercing.

I will take Maria out to dinner this week, Lynn, I think we’ll go to Jean’s Place, the rumor is they are serving fresh whole belly clams. Thank you and much love to you.

Your message reminds me to savor every minute I have with the people I love and to not take the people and things I love for granted. I often read letters like yours to Red while he lay next to me, hearing them out loud brought them to life for me.

I would have felt foolish doing that to any other dog. But it seemed to make sense with Red. We were beyond words.

I miss that. Your letter touched my heart.