It is no secret that over the last couple of months my life has felt overwhelming. The loss of my thirteen year old pup in August undid me. Dogs, in my opinion, provide the most authentic form of unconditional love, so when I lost my pup I felt so alone, even though I wasn’t. Prior to the loss of my dog, my brother had moved away to Seattle and asked me to watch over his pet. Her name is Luna, and she’s significantly different from the dog I had lost. Beyond a very obvious difference in phenotypical expression, her maturity is still developing. She is a beautiful 1 year old pitbul who’s eyes light up the minute she sees me. Raising her has been so different from my last. That said, I’m not sure I could’ve raised a dog that reminds me of my last. I most likely would’ve found myself wallowing in my own sorrow far more often. Luna is over saturated with personality. She keeps me on my feet, kicks me in her sleep and currently has developed a terrible habit of bringing me dead pigeons in the morning ha (we’re working on stopping this)! She saw me crying one day in the yard and sat across me confused. I don’t think she was able to process why I felt so sad but I could tell she wanted to help. She has been there for me over the last couple of months. Her joyous personality was enough light to pierce the darkness that enveloped me. She truly is one of a kind. I love her so much.
I woke up this morning to a cold grey sky. The light in my mothers eyes did not shine as bright. She asked me if I wanted coffee and turned away from my gaze. It was only seconds before I heard her start to cry. My mother is a strong woman, it is unlike her to show vulnerability like that unless someone has passed away. Oh, it suddenly clicks, someone must have passed away. It hurts to see her like this, she is clearly hurting. I go to her and hug her and while she cries in my arms she tells me her nephew, my cousin, has passed. She can barley hold the cup of unfinished coffee anymore. I feel her sorrow emanating and begin to creep its way down my throat. I'm conflicted, I barley knew the man, "why do I feel sad, why do I feel cheated?." Today is a reminder that I am a first generation Citizen. My life is torn between two cultures and unfortunately one of the ramifications is that I will most likely never get to know my entire family. I am heart broken that it feels like another set of books that detail my lineage have been burned and I was never given the opportunity to read their stories, to simply glimpse at the pages and see how their lives inadvertently affected mine.