Book Recommendation
And a great heartbreak
A short story to begin with…
Several years ago, I was writing my favorite professor from college, who shared the updated syllabus for his Freshman-level history class. He shared it to highlight that he had assigned as required reading Behind the Beautiful Forevers, by Katherine Boo, which was a book I left for him before graduating. There was also a second highlighted reference:
Not knowing Kaitlin, and never having heard this concept before, it went right over my head. I recall thinking something along the lines of, “why would you plan for heartbreak? And why invite it multiple times?”
I suppose with most of our important questions, we answer them through life experience.
13 years ago, in the Summer of 2011, my wife texted me, “do you want to meet my puppy today?” Having grown up being chased by my neighbor’s dog, I agreed to put aside my personal fear (at that point greater than the dark, heights, public speaking, and large bodies of water) since this was a puppy. When she arrived at the park that afternoon, I was shellshocked to see that her “puppy” was a 30-pound German Shepherd (much larger than my neighbor’s dog). As she ran over, I saw her puppy look at her, and then me, several times back and forth with a big smile. In retrospect, I think of that smile as her knowing exactly how the story would go. That was my first time meeting Momo.
Somewhere in 12 years fear made way for friendship and Momo became the heart of our home. When we moved out of the city and into the suburbs, her bed was the first furnishing in our house. When our life was about to change a little more, she sniffed it out before we saw the same news through a pregnancy test.
Grief is a lot of things. It’s celebrating birthdays a little more quietly. Outfits in a closet that you don’t open as often anymore. A rosebush that you worry about in the Winter because you planted it together. Learning how to spend time that you have too much of now. A seat and meal that you save at dinner, just in case. And it’s memories that we revisit – sometimes for a smile, and other times to remind us of how we should live.
Although Momo is a little harder to see and hold now, our house still follows her principles, some of which are:
- A full life is a constellation of little adventures, on lunch breaks, evenings, weekends and unplanned surprises. Go on them often.
- Forgive each other quickly.
- Don't be afraid of smoke (think about the biggest, 6'7 / 220 lbs. Russian guy you can imagine, and that's who Momo decided to lunge at and scare right after her nap at a Napa winery).
- Try to walk through your snowstorms with grace, but don't be ashamed to ask for help.
- Enjoy at least one great meal made with care each day.
- Always come out for family time.
My wife recently published a children’s book (you can find it here) about some of this journey, which I would recommend to you as a fellow dog-lover, parent, or otherwise curious reader:
In a conversation with Momo’s favorite vet, Dr. Tim, who read this book and talked about his own process of grief as a constant emotional cycle of celebration and loss, I heard a reminder that a life isn’t just its dying parts; it’s mainly everything else. It also made me rethink that syllabus quote and understand that — closed hearts do not break, only open ones do. And we open them for the best parts of the world, somewhere learning that we will always be sad that our timelines did not neatly overlap, that our beginnings and middles are a loved one’s endings, but also always happy that they did overlap at least briefly. And perhaps, in some shape or time, someday overlap again.