When our beloved dog Mira died, there were those who walked with us, honoring the truth of where we were, no matter what had brought us there. These were the compassionate. And there were those who felt our grief from a distance, though they were puzzled at the depth of our loss, given that she was “only” a dog. These were the sympathetic. But there were those who thought our heartbreak too wide and deep, and they grew impatient when we didn’t repair in what they thought was a reasonable length of time. For them, the depth of our heartbreak and the rawness of our feelings brought them to the edge of their comfort zone. Their fear of walking in this rawness with us made them minimize the nature of our loss. They thought we were too sensitive. They thought we’d gone off the deep end.  It doesn’t matter what splinter the Universe gives us to stop us in our tracks. It doesn’t matter if those around us, near or far, think that our pain or fear or sadness is out of proportion to what punctured our world. It really doesn’t matter what triggers us into the depth of life, only that we swim there. And it’s …