I have always been a dog lover. My parents had a cockapoo when I was born, and when I was in first grade, we got two darling cocker spaniels named Jake and Molly. They each had their own distinct personalities—Jake was a mischief-maker who loved to cuddle and steal snacks from anywhere he could find them, while Molly was more of a pensive pup who liked to keep her distance but loved us all the same. They were so much fun, and they defined the childhood memories that my brother and I share.
It wasn’t until my mid-twenties, though, when I realized the difference between growing up with a pet and raising a pet to call your own.
There is no onboarding process to ease you back into work after bereavement leave. No pretty HR girl sits opposite you in an oversized boardroom with a box of chocolates, a Kleenex box and a stack of helpful papers explaining what's appropriate to share with
Ten months ago, my favorite 57-year-old man stayed 57 forever, and I became encrypted with a new binary structure—one that is no longer part of the code that writes Hallmark cards for the third Sunday in June. Programmed into fatherlessness, I now share this new
I remember it like it was yesterday. The calendar was about to turn to September and I was 18 years old about to turn another year older. I was shopping for a new laptop for college in a big box electronic store with my mom