Month: May 2025

Somewhere last week, I decided, I was finally going to finish Becoming by Michelle Obama.

It’s been over five years since I first picked up this book. More than five years of batting my lashes, blinking away tears on almost every page. Some were tears of joy; others, of excruciating pain I could almost feel spilling over.

Over time, Becoming became more than just a book it became a companion. A constant through so many seasons of my life. I started reading it in my early twenties, and here I am now, closing it in the final stretch of that decade.


I’ve experienced deep losses while holding this book close. I remember one night vividly, I was talking to my mom about how emotional the part about Michelle’s father was. I turned to my now late sister and said, “I just wouldn’t know how people handle the loss of someone so dear.”
Barely over a year later, I found myself in that exact place, trying to make sense of life without a sister I’d known my entire life. (Strangely, I’ve been talking about her a lot lately, in here)

I often made sure to read Becoming in solitude. There were parts that broke me. I’d cry, then pause for long stretches, just to breathe, to reflect, to let the words sit.

It felt so familiar. So intimate. Like a warm hug.
Inspiring in more ways than I can count.

Now that I’ve turned the last page, I find myself at a loss for words. Just sitting with it all like, “Damn.”

So for the rest of today, I’ll be doing just that, sitting with it all.
Every word that moved me.
Every memory it stirred.
And every gem I’ve gathered from this beautiful, wholehearted read.

This morning, I woke up caught between snuggling in bed with my book or hopping out to be a productive human. 

I happened to wake up earlier than usual, so for once, I had the luxury of pretending I had options, felt kinda fancy, not gonna lie.

I ended up sitting with my thoughts for what felt like an entire 30 minutes just zoned out. I rudely had to force myself out of that zoning. 

I have insanely crazy reminders on my phone that come buzzing once it hits 8:00 am.. I never play whenever I say I feel the most vulnerable when my phone is in another person’s hands, it’s an asylum this one. So much of my craziness tucked behind my password. The gaslighting I do for myself is next level. And only for my eyes. 

If my phone ever lands in your hands, please avoid the notes app. I mean you can read my messages, check my WhatsApp…go everywhere but kindly avoid my notes app. Just a heads up because you just might go insane. 

Okay so my reminders, are part of my morning routine, a girl must lock in you know. 

After my crazy intimate morning routine, I was like “Okay Val, we are going to have an insanely beautiful day” 

I just decided that I was going to have a gorgeous day and I manipulated my mind into believing that. 

Haha!  That’s basically what I wanted to say, I just decided I was going to have a bombass day.  

In 2020, right in the middle of the pandemic, I got a dog. Not as an impulse. Not to pass time. But because I was drowning in grief.

Her name is Trixie. She was a gift, quite literally. After losing my sister, I was desperate for something, anything, that would soothe the ache I carried around every day. So, I asked my late sister’s boyfriend if he could get me a pet. And just like that, Trixie came into my life.

She was barely a month old when I got her. I could barely care for myself at the time, let alone a tiny, fragile puppy. The anxiety was real. A few hours after I got her, she vomited, and I spiraled. I thought I was going to lose her too. But from the moment she curled up in my arms, the bond was instant.

I bundled her in blankets and made a spot for her in the guest bedroom. My mom, bless her traditional African heart, watched in quiet disbelief. She didn’t say a word, afraid to step on my fragile heart. So, everyone just watched as I figured out how to raise this unexpected companion.

Google became my best friend. Every time Trixie twitched, sneezed, or wagged her tail, I was deep in a rabbit hole of research. I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow, we figured it out together. Day by day. Bark by bark.

Then came December. I got a job offer that meant relocating. As excited as I should’ve been, my heart broke at the thought of leaving Trixie behind. Taking her with me wasn’t an option, and the separation anxiety hit hard. I cried the entire 12-hour bus ride to Voi. It wasn’t the road trip I usually lived for, it was one of the hardest goodbyes I’ve had to make.

But I had videos of Trixie and I. Enough to keep me going. And the knowledge that she was safe and loved at home.

Years later, Trixie is still here, curled up in her favorite corners, loved by everyone in the house. She’s become an irreplaceable part of my life. Grief doesn’t go away, but she became a soft distraction, a living, breathing reminder that healing doesn’t always come the way we expect it.

She’s mushy, emotional, and a little dramatic. Just like me.

Today, while feeding her, I teared up. I reached down, gave her a gentle touch, and felt this overwhelming wave of gratitude. I thought, I need to write this down. Someday, I might need to remember what she did for me.

For context, my late sister also had a dog, Blee. She was a birthday gift and a gentle soul. Blee and I had a bond too, and I swear I saw grief in her eyes when my sister passed. Blee stayed with my sister’s boyfriend, as it should’ve been. But perhaps that’s what led me to Trixie.

I know not everyone gets it, not everyone is into pets. But I promise you, dogs are something else. Something otherworldly. They don’t replace what’s lost, but sometimes, they help us hold the pieces together just long enough to start healing.

And that, my friends, is the magic of dogs.
Maybe the magic of my Trixie.

Ps: I intentionally didn’t post Trixie’s picture.

Side note – We lost Blee just about the time I wrote this. I found out later and it was just so heartbreaking.