We we're at the blue hole (swimming hole) on the south fork of the Moorman River in SNP and my brother's dog, whom I was apprehensive about taking with us in the first place, ran off after another couple's dog. We spent the rest of the afternoon looking for her until night fall, when because of our lack of headlamps, we had go back to our cabin leaving her in the woods overnight. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make, and my wife had to drive because I was so overwhelmed with grief, anger (for my brother forcing us to take her), and despair.
Long story short, we continued to search the next day--joined the next day by my brother and his wife. We had to leave and go back, as our vacation was over. They gave up the search too and I was a complete mess the rest of the week. My brother's dog ended up staying over 96 hours in the woods before she found a family at the trailhead. This dog ended up getting struck & killed by a car on Halloween later that year. Lesson learned: 1) never spend 800 bucks on an alpha female who refuses to listen 2) Never pressure someone into dog sitting if they don't feel comfortable with the pet.
As for crying on trail, I've found myself crying on long hikes before the three 10 month contracts to "the sandbox", simply because I wasn't sure if I'd see my family, friends, loved ones, or beautiful Appalachian Mountains again.
I also remember sharing scotch with complete strangers in camp around a fire, and through conversation, rehashed all the memories & feelings of losing a very close friend to suicide after they had explained to me they were out camping (because they had just lost a close friend to suicide). It made me realize that we (survivors of suicide) are everywhere. It was a therapeutic, yet powerful experience, and I was convinced God had a large part in our lives intersecting that night.