Oban

I’ve carried a lot of pain these past few years.
Faced it. Sat with it. Worked through it piece by piece.

I hiked through it.
I prayed through it.
I spoke it out loud in rooms where healing was the only goal.

And somehow… I survived all of it.

But there was one place in my mind I never touched.
One door I kept closed.

I didn’t even realize I was learning how to compartmentalize
until I understood what I had done—
I left a piece of my heart behind that door.

That door is labeled Oban.

I knew, without question,
that nothing would break me more
than letting that part of me back into the present.

So I didn’t.
Not for a long time.

Until today.

Today I opened it.
And I let him out—
slowly… carefully…
from my mind… into my heart.

The pain was immediate.
Intense.
Almost unbearable.

And yet… somehow,
it was also euphoric.

Because there is a kind of love
that only animals know how to give.

They don’t judge you.
They don’t question your past.
They don’t need explanations.

They just feel you.

It’s as if they recognize your pain
and decide, without hesitation,
that their only purpose
is to soften it.

I’ll never forget the night I broke.
3:00am.
Crying into the phone,
completely undone.

And there he was—
not even a year old—
climbing onto my chest,
laying his tiny body against mine
like he was trying to hold me together.

He didn’t understand the words.
But he understood me.

That kind of love…
it’s angelic.
Pure.
Untouched by anything this world tries to complicate.

I’ve let go of people before.
Men came and went,
and I always found my way back to myself.

But him…

He was different.

He was the only boy
who ever loved me without conditions,
without confusion,
without leaving pieces of me behind.

And I couldn’t face losing that.
So I didn’t.

Until now.

Because somehow…
even this kind of love
asks you to let go.

And this—
this is a pain that doesn’t compare.
It doesn’t follow the same rules.

It doesn’t make sense.

It just… breaks you open.

But if he taught me anything,
it’s this:

Love like that doesn’t disappear.
It heals.
It stays.
It becomes a part of who you are.

I miss him with everything in me.

But I also carry him—
in the quiet ways I’ve learned to love,
in the softness I didn’t lose,
in the way I still believe
that something pure exists in this world.

And maybe that was always his purpose.

To show me that kind of love…
so I would never forget
what it feels like.

---

For Oban

I love you, Oban.

You are a child I might never have,
but somehow, you were always mine.

Even if the world only saw a dog,
I knew what you were—
my comfort,
my protector,
my heart outside of me.

You saved me
in ways no one ever will fully understand.
You held me together
when I was falling apart.

I love you
to the moon and back—
twice around ❤️