Navigating Each Day One Droplet at a Time

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

We lost a family member this past week. Luca passed away 10.2.24, at approximately 6:30 am (EST). This remarkable Papi-Poo’s smile, zaniness, and infectious – (yes contagious) – stubbornness filled every room he entered. Luca was always on the hunt for food, frivolity, and more food. He possessed something you rarely encounter anymore in a being – moxie!

I had met Luca circa 2011. Honestly, I do not recall much of the meeting. He was my dear friend Nyvia’s, (our Chief Pear Officer), canine companion. I lost touch with Ms. Roman for more than a decade. When we met up for lunch during the fall of 2022, we discussed life’s transpirations, conversed about ancient times, and of course shared pictures – these included significant others, adventurous excursions, animated GIF images, & wistful nostalgia.

After quality grub and grog, we agreed to keep in touch and shockingly, we did! Two months later Nyvia invited me to see her new digs – she had recently moved to a groovy city in Jersey, named Rahway. She welcomed me into her abode, and within seconds I was greeted by Luca. This convocation left an indelible impression on me. It wasn’t his handsomeness, nor his vim, wasn’t even his adorable fresh haircut. No, it was the fact he urinated on my left leg.

This was not a marking his territory tinkle or a whimsical wiz. This was indeed an unapologetic full stream ahead evacuation. Honestly, I was not perturbed by the act as much as I was concerned about the state of my pantalones.

Needless to say, despite that afternoons mischief Luca and I became bosom buddies. As weeks turned into months and months turned into years, time with Luca became commonplace. As Nyvia and I conceived, created, and completed phase one of The Pear Tree Project, minutes turned into hours and hours into days. With every step there was the presence of this profound pooch. Many days when I would venture to Union County, NJ, to work remotely, Luca was my business partner. We spent hours writing together, playing ball, and discussing how many ‘Beggin’ strips he could consume before “momma” returned.

Inevitably, his sense of security, his comfort, his positivity, his reinforcement, his chef, his cuddler, his best friend, and his heart would arrive. I have experienced and witnessed the immeasurable bond a dog and their person impart. This love was that of storytelling dreams. It was preciously protected by both. Inseparable merely scratches the surface of this union. They fed each other affection. They pushed through space collectively with purpose and pride. They were eternally content in whatever they did, as long as it was together.

My beagle-lab-breeds-unknown, Lola, left us May 24, 2023, and the absence was indefinably aching. Selfishly, having Luca in my life assisted with the loss. It was like having a dog for all the fun stuff, but not having the daily routine and responsibility of owning a furry friend. He supplied an expressive, exacting energy, and did so gracefully. If you were ever fortunate enough to spend moments with Luca, the permanence of his stare is still with you. He wanted to understand what you were doing, and why. There was a pure sincerity in his desire to know more about you.

Did you know there are one zillion placards, proverbs, & poems about losing your pet; yet none, despite the pleasing prose and humane intent, ever help with the comprehension of this new brokenness thrust upon you. Perhaps, there is a reason for that – sometimes being on the losing end of rain produces the strongest of growth.

The one below is for Luca and Nyvia.

Thank You, these seeds will persevere from the sunlight you bestowed ~

You will be sad I understand, but don’t let grief then stay your hand, 
For on this day, more than the rest, your love and friendship must stand the test. 
We have had so many happy years, you wouldn’t want me to suffer so. 
When the time comes, please, let me go.

Take me to where to my needs they’ll tend, only, stay with me till the end. 
And hold me firm and speak to me, until my eyes no longer see. 
I know in time you will agree, it is a kindness you do to me. 
Although my tail its last has waved, from pain and suffering I have been saved. Don’t grieve that it must be you, who has to decide this thing to do; 
We’ve been so close — we two — these years, don’t let your heart hold any tears.