Ah, family reunions. Most of us have one at some point, and mine just so happens to be once a year for a week in June. Normally, our whole family would ride in my mother's Armada, but this year we had some extra passengers so my father and I were booted into his Dodge Charger. The back seat was piled high with luggage, snacks, and costumes for our theme nights, so I had to push my seat as far back as it could go and fold my legs up for the four hour ride so one of our dogs could sit at my feet since we hadn't calculated room for him. He was a last-minute addition to our trip because he gave us quite the scare: we almost had to put him down the morning we left for our reunion. We'd thought his backend was completely paralyzed, but the vet ruled that he still had feeling and could possibly recover. Thus, I had planned to stay home to take care of him because I had to carry him everywhere, help him urinate, and give him his medicine. The vet said it was a 24-hour job, so I didn't mind missing the reunion if good ole Mr. B still had a chance. My parents, on the other hand, refused to let me stay since we would be holding a ceremony for my late grandfather, so they made the executive decision to bring him with us. We had another family member watch our other pets, so we made room in the car and set out.
Mr. B hadn't been in a car in quite some time, so he was whining for the first thirty minutes or so. My petting soothed him, but as soon as I stopped, he'd start whining again. Thus, I had to keep my foot on him the entire drive to keep him assured that everything was fine. At first, my father and I just talked about random things, sat in silence, then listened to some talk shows followed by some music. My leg that I had curled underneath me in the seat was aching, so I was singing along to Holiday by Green Day to distract myself. My dad let out low "bums" to make the steady bass noises, and we consequently decided we should start an acapella group (which sadly never actually happened). Every now and again, Mr. B would sit up and look at my dad and me, and my dad would smile almost sadly at him. It was heartbreaking, honestly. The poor guy couldn't do anything on his own and he was nearing 13 years of age, and my dad and I were the two people that spent the most time with him aside from my mother, so the fact that he may not recover hit hard.
"'You better start walkin' for me again, buddy,'" My dad had murmured to him after patting him on the head with his free hand, the other clutching the steering wheel. The dog just looked back up at him as if in understanding and laid back down on the floor, beginning to doze off once more. Those eight words my father had uttered and the simple look from the dog showed more love and affection than I'd ever seen between man and his best friend. It was admirable, really - to see and even feel the connection between them, to understand the bond.
As we neared our destination, I began asking my dad about the first time he ever came to the reunion, as it was for my mother's side of the family. As it turns out, the first time he tagged along, he and my mom weren't even seriously dating. When I questioned that, he told me that dating never really worked between the two of them. Obviously, I was surprised, as the have been happily married for 21 years and have three children. As it turns out, they had hung out as really close friends and, when they tried dating, it just wasn't the same. So, they decided to just stay friends. Now, of course I asked him just how they ended up together if they never really dated. His answer to that was a chuckle followed by a long, content sigh. "'After the whole dating thing, we saw separate people and didn't hang out as much, because I didn't want to get in between anyone's relationship. Then one day, I get a call from her. She tells me she needs to talk to me, so naturally, I thought something bad had happened. When I showed up to her place after work, she handed me this seven-page letter explaining how she felt about me.'"
My eyes went wide and my head fell to the side. My mother is not the type to be mushy or express extreme emotion like that, let alone through a seven page letter. I thought he was joking with me at first, and I suppose he saw my peaking curiosity because he reassured me that no, it really happened and he still had the letter all these years later. It sounded like something you'd see in a Nicholas Sparks movie, not real life. My mind was opened up to a reality I never thought existed.
I realized that love was far more pure than I had thought, but that it wasn't about falling for each other at first sight. There were trials and errors, happiness and pain, romantic and platonic. But I also realized that doesn't mean relationships can't have fairytale-esque aspects. Whether it was eight words or seven pages of words, love can be conveyed and understood, no matter if it's between two humans or an owner and their pet. I never knew that four measly hours could have such an impact on my outlook on the world, nonetheless with my childish father and old dog. I learned more about love in those simple four hours than I had through my own relationships, and it was an experience that not everyone has the pleasure of going through. I learned what love was supposed to feel like. It wasn't all about fluttering hearts and long, happily ever afters. There's sadness and pain, there's regrets and worries. But those are the strongest aspects of love. It's the negative emotions that show how strongly you care. One single tear shed over losing a loved one is far more powerful than any number of kisses of happiness. And all I can hope is that some day I can forge relationships as strong as my father has, whether it's with people or pets. I want to have pure love, not one that's all rainbows and sunshine. Dark days are needed, despite how much we wish they weren't. Real love does exist, you just have to know where to find it, which I am now sharing with you. It's in the little things, the bad things, the sad things; not the extravagant, ginormous acts. So, the next time someone yells at you for missing your curfew or the next time you lose a pet, remember that the emotions you feel are love at its finest, and it should be treasured.
