Back to Giuseppe

Sometimes, the best of intentions have a way of falling flat. Even the things you love most, the things you know you were born to do, the things which brought you more pleasure than anything else in life, feel meaningless.

For me, it was losing my heart when I lost the love of my life, Harold Moscowitz. He mattered more to me than anything else has ever mattered to me. Someone recently reproached me for this love and said, "All you cared about was Harold. He was just a dog."

Back to rediscovering who I am when met with the stupidest sentence I have heard in my life. Back to the splash of cold water of reality: we allow people into our lives who will never understand us, or what matters most to us. Harold Moscowitz WAS a dog. But he was everything. And the person who said it is an inconsequential human being.

Eccentricities are only weird to those who do not understand. Back to knowing who I am, and being proud of it. Back to embracing what makes us unique.

When you lose the being you love more than your own life, nothing seems all that important anymore. Giving up seems easier. I was told the younger dog needs to see his deceased sibling to truly understand the passing. Back to witnessing a pain unlike anything I have ever known... although not back to anything at all.

Because watching Luigi understand his brother was gone was not back to A. It was a journey to a place I had never known before. The end. It was black, and cold, and hopeless. A place where I did not want to write, or laugh, or read, or socialize, or. . . care. About anything, or anyone.

Luigi understood he was gone, I understood he was gone, and nothing in life felt like it would ever be worthwhile again. Back to feeling absolutely dead inside. And then....

. . . back to starting all over again when, for the first time, I felt exhausted. Starting over can be fun and fresh and exciting, but sometimes, when it has happened so many times, it feels impossible. Back to rediscovering friends who will step up, when even family will not, and drive you for hours at any time of the day to help you begin again.

Back to discovering that new beginnings are always possible. Back to Giuseppe.

Giuseppe "Baby G" came at a time I was not ready to love again, or hope again. A time when I did not want to invest in anyone, or anything, again. And yet, in that simple leap of faith, with the help of a new friend who felt old and comfortable and wonderful, I was able to bridge the gap between hopelessness and renewed faith. . . and believe again.

Back to Giuseppe, my new puppy. A new life. Back to an angel who would breathe love and life into my heart. Back to believing it is never too late to find the people, the love, the home, and the self you thought were all totally lost. . . 

Back to starting all over again, and believing that A has more strength than even A knew possible.