I always celebrate my birthday in the tiniest of ways.
It is like me: I don’t want to take up any more space than I have to.
My twenty-sixth birthday was different. It was no reason to celebrate. Our family dog, Bruiser, passed away.
I struggled with my emotions. I felt guilty for experiencing any happiness in his wake. I almost forced myself to cry because it is what you do. My anxieties and insecurities about my family and me resurfaced, too. This time, however, my wall of denial started to break.
Bruiser was the goodest of boys.