Growth & Harmony

Last year I lived two lives and you are reading the first. 

In October of the previous year, I had decided that I was going to go for it. I mean, I had made her wait long enough, hadn’t I? I had told her we could do it immediately after we started dating. I knew it then, but I had to be sure. 

And now I was. 

She had waited so patiently. Was so understanding. Showed me time and time and time again that I could trust her. That she was my person and that she was going to be there for me. 

So for her birthday, I got her a trip to Oregon. 

Oh, and a professional photographer for that trip for Christmas. 

Oh yeah - and a ring that was stashed in my closet for months. Not just a ring. The ring. The ring that she had picked out long before I was the man that went with it. 

Actually, not THE ring because the one on Etsy was suss and moissanite and my girl did not deserve a yellowish rock. We just, aren’t yellowish rock kinda people. She deserved a rock that had blood on it’s hands. A rock with an artificially inflated price due to a controlled shortage increasing it’s value. 

She deserved—a lab diamond. On an elegant, ballerina band. 

Only the finest for my lady. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

We do some holidays together and some apart due to me juggling lovely family dynamics, you know, divorce and stuff. 

This Christmas was spent apart and homegirl had just texted me that it was time. She was at the airport. 

I knew her parents loved me but shit, I was still kinda nervous. But it had to be done. They were together, hostage in a vehicle and I was the captor. 

And man did they bawl when I asked. I may have cried too—I kinda blacked out but I knew I was setting the bar high with that Christmas gift… It’s been a year and I definitely didn’t outdo myself this year. 

Our anniversary was in March and like a good little boyfriend, I had it all planned out. We would go to Portland, and get engaged in the month that we met. 

But first, we had our third anniversary to celebrate. 

It was our last anniversary as boyfriend and girlfriend—little did she know—and it was going to be so amazing! 

So amazing that I have no idea what we were planning to do because our dog was confirmed to have cancer and we got him back on our anniversary and we put him down the next morning. 

So that was—fun. 

Happy anniversary, Syd! Love you! 

Side note—I offered to cancel the trip in case our dog, Norman, was butting up against it and was going to figure out a different proposal later but we knew the day we got him back that he wouldn’t make it the two projected weeks. 

Life went on and the trip got closer. A mix of pain through the loss of our dog and a kinda-sorta but not really demotion at work and pleasure in the form of excitement of getting to make one of Syd’s biggest dreams a reality. 

Finally getting her hands on that ring. Oh and a husband to go with—of course! 

We weren’t going to replace Norman. I don’t like the word replace. Especially when it comes to our dogs. We talked about a harlequin dane on our first in-person date when Syd was safe and knew I wasn’t a serial killer (yet—peep part two for more) and we not only had one but had lost one. We wouldn’t get another. 

Especially not so close to the loss of our first. 

But, we are impulsive and grief sucks and was eating us from the inside out and there was a hole in our hearts that couldn’t be repaired but I have heard could be patched. 

We found Truman—Tru at the time, a 6 month old harlequin dane, returned to a European Dane breeder in Washington.

I hope he doesn’t read this but there was another breeder we liked even more but they devastatingly lost their litter so we had to settle. 

Just kidding, I love this dog—and what better way to sweeten and ruin your proposal than by forwarding the application for your second choice dog to your lovely girlfriend detailing that she didn’t know it yet but you both were traveling out west to get engaged and would love to add a puppy to the trip?

I have never been greeted at home with such a big smile. Nor have I felt like such a moron. 

Who keeps a secret for 6 months just to blow it THE WEEK BEFORE? 

Fortunately, she assured me that, as all good eventually-to-be wives, she kinda already knew and this just confirmed her suspicions. 

I was glad she was happy but I just had to put our dog down AND I flubbed the proposal? My guy! 

We know who isn’t allowed to take the last second shots in this household. 

We were approved to adopt Tru (duh!) and cancelled the flights in favor of a road trip to get our 80lb puppy. Oh yeah, and to get engaged… Idiot. 

Who reveal—you know what… It is what it is. 

The pictures turned out great. The proposal, flawless. The dog, scared of us when he first met us and slept the whole drive from Spokane to Jackson Hole and proceeded to be so excited at 2:00 AM in the hotel room that I thought we were going to get kicked out with his goofy ass stompin’ around. 

All was good. 

We got married two days later as all responsible individuals who didn’t rush into getting engaged do and prepared to plan our wedding. 

I mean prepared to pay for our travel abroad and bringing the trip we had spent the last few years talking about to life. 

It took me another 4 months to un-demote myself but I got a promotion at work leading into Syd and I traveling to Iceland, Ireland, and the UK to kinda sorta get married (*cough go on a vacation and dress up for pictures and have a great time*). 

We even got to plan out a little trip for our boys, Hank and Truman, to go to the board and train program that helped our cancer boy, Norman, have less anxiety and be able to function in public without ripping our arms off or cowering from the mighty Yorkies that lived in our apartment building. 

It was about time, too because puberty was hittin’ Truman and he was becoming a next level-butthead. Yeah, I said it. 

The trip was amazing until we got the call that our dog, Hank, was suffering from heart failure. 

We cancelled all of the cool Harry Potter stuff we had planned—months of planning down the drain (okay okay, like 30-45 minutes)—to return home to hopefully get to spend time with our dog before his eventual passing. 

We got home early and sure enough, we got more time with him—until we didn’t.

We would get an extra couple of weeks with Hank before his heart failure worsened despite the pounds of medicine I had to force down his gullet daily to the point of distrust for me keeping him alive. 

His paw sits next to Normie’s on my desk at this very moment and their urns on Syd’s. 

We miss both of the boys and are so happy and grateful for all of the time that we spent with them. 

Their unexpected deaths further strengthened our relationship (trust me, this is not an exercise I would put in a book to help couples with failing marriages—it absolutely sucked) and further demonstrated that I had chosen the right person. 

They also forced me to examine my life and the decisions that I had been making up to this point. 

While I have done a lot in my short time, they helped me realize that I was deviating from the path that I wanted to be on and without a course correction, my life would never drive the results I wanted. 

Thank you, boys, for making the ultimate sacrifice to teach me this. 

I also spent a good deal of time in an existential spiral. I’d thank them for that but it meant many sleepless nights and lots of questioning the meaning of life which I believe I have found my solution to and never want to have to search that dark abyss for again. Thank you very much. 

That meaning? 

Wouldn’t you like to know.  (P.S. It’s taking everything in me not to put a Mr. Burns gif in here so uhhhhh - if you can Google him rubbing his hands together so I don’t ruin the aesthetic that’d be greeeeaaaatttttt.)