I’ve always kept things in perspective my entire life. I understand that your family is more important than the new iPhone. And that’s why if my house was burning down, there are four things I would save. Well, three now.
In my seventeen years, I’ve never been attached to a house. I’ve never been attached to a school or a neighborhood or a park. And that’s because I know with only three words, “We are moving” your entire life can be changed. New city, new house, new school, new friends, new enemies, new everything. It’s something that is so true to my life. But there have always been four things that have always been constant, that have never changed or been left behind in the moving truck dust.
My dad, my mom, my brother, and my dog.
I woke up Wednesday night in a flood of tears. It’s odd because, although I am an emotional person, I almost never cry like this. Heaps of emotion and remorse flew threw me like a bird, just dropping pain and sorrow into all of my bones. At first I didn’t know what was wrong with me, and then it hit me. One of my constants had changed. I only have three now.
As you know from this post here, my dog was put down a month ago. I remember being in France and breaking down one night because I was thinking about the fact that once I got back, we’d have to put him down in a few weeks. Little did I know I only had one week left. My teacher found out I’d been crying in my hotel room and came to check on me. I told her the situation and she gave me a hug, telling me it would all be okay. And so I told myself it would be okay. And then I got back to America and was told it was time.
I never really got time to fully grieve the absence of one of my four. It’s such an odd feeling, losing one of the constants of your life. It’s like going to Disneyland and realizing they’ve taken out Mickey. How can you do that? The story doesn’t make any sense anymore. And although I still have three really great constants left, I still can’t help but notice the absence of the fourth.
If you feel like there is a link missing out of your chain-link fence, I want you to know you are not alone. I’m with you 100% of the way. I understand your pain so clearly that if you ever want to talk, feel free to email me at email@example.com. That address is always available for any questions you want to ask me, any personal anecdotes you’d like to send my way, or anything else you’d like to share with me. And right now, I’d love some support on this matter. It’d be helpful to all parties involved.
Have a great weekend. You have all deserved it.