My Number One Man

By Barbara Christensen - 4:30 PM

My Number One Man

When I lost my girl, Doro, I was heartbroken and dealing with postpartum with my daughter. I couldn't face it, and I know Doro understands yet it haunts me. I had moved three times, dealt with a late second trimester miscarriage and a long hard pregnancy that left me on bedrest from week 30 through 37 when she appeared. I was weary, and losing my furry daughter was so heartbreaking. 

When I lost Joe, as a young woman, it was after a long period of trauma as well. That dog came along when I had moved away from everything and everyone I knew, and was grappling with the absenteeism of parents. Raised by wolves? Sort of. I was raised by Joe a dorky black lab that decided he was mine, and I was his. At 16 he was blind and confined to my bedroom during work hours, which wasn't a great way to live. For months every time I opened the door to my room I expected to hear the bounce off my bed, and instead was faced with silence. 

Oscar, the man originally named Bruce. He looked a bit like a shrunken down Doro when I saw him online. I didn't share why we were really going out, but I knew he was mine. Mr. Sophistication.  Once we decided he was a reincarnation of Shakespeare. He had a girlfriend that ran a coffee shop. Wore Halloween costumes and went everywhere with us like a little gentleman. Unlike Oliver who is the always present toddler who requires and demands to be the center of attention. Oscar was the center but did not require it. 

He is Fifteenish and still so good. I know that my need to have him with me isn't a reason to keep him living in pain. Tomorrow we have the appointment when I likely believe they will say, it is time. And I don't know how to say goodnight. I don't know how to tell Oliver that his brother won't be coming home. Oliver has lost his fa, his big army friend, soon his house, and now his brother. It seems that the universe is not just taking everything away from me, but from him. It's not fair. I want to scream about it. 

I am just so ready for new starts instead of bad endings. I want to be finished. I want to have someone I love next to me watching television, talking about the day, with an annoying toddler dog attempting to gain our attention. I want to be into the next chapter of my life instead of being slowly drug through the broken glass of the past. I am sad and have mourned the life I thought I had. I want the life I crave, that I manifested, and to be able to breathe. 

Last Vacation

  • Share:

You Might Also Like