Today she’s out of my life forever.
I’ve said it before; I can think of at least two more times it may be said.
I saved a dog today.
I hit a dog that day.
It seems to be poetic justice: The two dogs that is.
Has a joyous and painful chapter of my life finally been closed?
Who knows where we’d be had I never hit that dog.
Who knows where I’ll go now that I’ve saved another.
Every relationship needs a catalyst: ours was the tragic death of a dog.
We met a few weeks earlier. It was a cold January day in a building that resembled a jail more than a college. I sat in the back of the classroom, in a corner which would come to be known as “conservative row,” in an otherwise liberal group of students taking a class on American Government. She walked in, all bundled in her jacket, scarf and knit cap; all that was visible was her gorgeous face. I later learned she had just returned from a winter-break trip to Ecuador making that particular Oregon cold-spell that much more extreme.
We didn’t speak that first day, in fact it may have been at least a week before I got the courage to introduce myself.
True to a habit I developed several years earlier in an effort to win the affection of girls, I discovered the quickest and easiest way to spend time with her: Join her as an intern with the Oregon Legislature. Prior to knowing her involvement with the internship, I had given it little thought, upon hearing her discussing it with our professor there would be no stopping my desire to work long hours for no pay. We began carpooling together, and a friendship ensued, but as for me, I was falling in love.
We were driving through a small, out-of-the-way town when the incident occurred. We had just dropped off a mutual friend at a home where they would be safe. Our friend was in a bad relationship, and needed a place to go. One of their professors stepped up to the plate, but lived miles from town. On the return trip, near-midnight, while driving her car a dog jetted across the curvy two-lane highway. With nothing but headlights to pierce the darkness, my reaction was too little too late.
I had never so-much as hit a squirrel, let alone a dog, especially a dog. After several minutes sitting and crying over what had occurred, both of us being huge animal lovers, she helped me regain my composure and we returned to the scene. The dog was gone. We searched for the dog, but found no sign other than the skid-marks and blood on the road. She tried to assure me the dog was fine, but I know better. A direct hit going 65-miles-an-hour and a missing dog would only mean it wouldn’t get the medical attention it needed to have even a small chance at survival.
We returned to my home, completely distraught, and at some point that night sympathy turned into affection. Not many days later we began dating. Three years we dated. They were some of the most joyous and most painful times of my life. I had my first love.
The relationship wasn’t unlike any other serious relationship that lasts three years. We had our ups and our downs. We were in love.
Nearly a year ago, she broke my heart. She’d been asked on a date, and instead of saying “no, I’m in a relationship,” she said yes, and then said goodbye to me, sitting in a busy campus Starbucks during dead week. That was the last I saw her.
Today, she flew to Boston where she’ll live with the man who asked her out. I’ve lost her again, she’s out of my life forever.
While driving home from the grocery store this afternoon, distracted by thoughts of her, a dog was wandering in the turn lane of a busy road. The same turn lane required for me to use to go home. At the literal last second, I was able to stop. I picked up the small dog, placed him in my car and took him home. A few minutes later I saw the symbolism.
I never had closure. I was never given the opportunity, and in the last year many things have distracted me from being able to deal with the emotions and thoughts one must when the loss of love occurs. Today of all days, the day she is gone forever, in some way maybe the saving of a dog symbolizes the closure I needed.
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And if that wasn’t enough, my evening ended with this scene from How I Met Your Mother. (I apologize for the bad dubbing, but the audio is more important than the visual).