Post 3 - 3.7.25

A year ago today, Dylan died while listening to "Take Me to Church" by Hozier.

He broke seven vertebrae, shattered his entire pelvis, and his neck was sliced open by the silver cross he wore.

I spoke with my fiancé this morning, about the boy who died a year ago, and he says he can hardly remember him because a year is a long time—and since then, my fiancé's pelvis has mostly healed. I'm happy he's alive because the boy who died is quite different from the man who lived.

And this morning, my friend told me she believes animals are spiritually connected to us and can sense the good and the bad. They know what we need or want.

It must be why Luca was so good with Dylan when they met. He curled into him like he found home.

I go home tonight, and I can't help but think about the edge of the mountainside I might fall off of, and the tree I could break my pelvis on. If I do fall—and I do die—I hope to come back like Dylan did. Or maybe I'll come back as his loyal dog.

And if I do die, I hope it's to something good like Hozier.