It’s been a slow drop for me— with each passing day I find myself less able to think or do simple tasks. This morning I am unable to hold a conversation with anyone because I am in a rather chronic state of crying.
You know me. I am trying like hell to intellectualize all of this. To find meaning and metaphor. To find life lessons and spiritual guidance. To have something make sense.
But none of those old behaviors are working for me here. I am a bucket of confusion, depression and pain.
I wouldn’t even be writing here to you except for the emails and phone calls I have been receiving. I know how much you care about Henry and Ollie. I know you want to know the status. It’s possible they just got turned around in the mountains and are genuinely lost– and will come out the other side in one of the four possible towns . . . we have alerted the police and humane societies etc in each of them. It’s also possible I may never see them again.
That’s all I know.