I am broken.
The other day my mom called me and told me I need to cry to process grief, I need to cry, I need to let it out. I lost some people in the family. I also lost my dog after starting a week on a new job. My mom keeps calling me and asks how am I doing. Somewhere it has started to bother me.
Mom’s are moms after all. That’s what I keep on telling myself.
My dog was the only creature I cared about more than my passion. He was one of a kind. I got him home when he was 9 yrs old. He was an old dog who was abandoned by his caretakers and I had room in my home. Well, my home was not big but my heart certainly was big enough for the big doggo.
I always use this statement for our relationship, “One cold, rainy and thundering night, I hear a frail scratch on my door, months later sitting with my furry friend, I wonder who saved whom.”
I might never be able to fill the void of him. Once in a while, while working, I look around to see him staring at me even at 2:00 AM in the morning but he isn't there anymore. It’s just me and my broken heart, an empty apartment, and my urge to make a deal with someone to exchange my life for his. The loss, pain, emotions have somehow escaped my understanding of what it means to be human.
Loosing 3 members of the family in such a short time was not something that I was prepared to be hit by.
I smile, laugh and go by my day as nothing has happened. I love my work, I’m not going to lie. I assume, that is what has kept me going than having a mental breakdown.
Everyone processes grief in a different way. Maybe, this is my way.
I read somewhere the other day, It might be a bad day, It is not a bad life. You will grow out of it eventually.

