In a fallen world, hospitals are perplexing places. They can represent the very best of times, such as the birth of a child, and the very worst of times, as with the death of a loved one. Indeed, life and death are so often held in the palms of a simple hospital bed.

Eight years ago to this very day, February the 3rd, my family said So long to the dearest man in all the world.

Sasha, mine and Elaina’s Australian Labradoodle, had only been gone for a few days before the signs of her absence became clear. By gone, I do not mean deceased; she was simply out of the house. Out of the country, in fact. Indeed, our dog was on vacation in Florida.