Dr. Pepper and I have had a long history together, from my go-to restaurant drink in my early adolescence to my caffeine of choice throughout college. Whereas many of us have had long-time friends, I’ve had Dr. Pepper, and Dr. Pepper has had me throughout my ups and downs.
For my 15th birthday, and my COVID birthday, I got a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper as one of my gifts. When I got my gallbladder out, the first thing I’d sip when I was discharged from the hospital was a Dr. Pepper, but don’t tell my doctors that. In short, there’s no world where I exist and my true love is not beside me. We’re a package deal, peanut butter and jelly, true soulmates.Â
However, my beloved and I had been separated for the last 40 days leading up to Easter. Lent is a religious holiday for Christians that spans the 40 days that lead up to Easter. One of the practices done within these 40 days requires that Christians give up something they take pleasure in as a Lenten Sacrifice. For all the years I’ve participated in Lent, I’ve never given up the same thing twice, and as the first day of fasting was approaching, I had to give up the one thing I didn’t want to, but had to: Dr. Pepper.Â
I took this moment as a vacation. My Dr. Pepper and I weren’t breaking up, but merely taking time away to soak in the sun and the spring season. Soon, we’d be reunited and start up right where we left off; I’d have 3-5 of them in a week, and they’d give me the caffeine boost I needed every day at 8 a.m. whilst I rushed to class. But this vacation was the worst decision for our relationship, as time has shown.Â
Throughout the 40-day Lent period, I tried my hardest to rely on water to fill my cup and my stomach. For the first two weeks or so, I did just that. I stayed loyal to my Dr. Pepper by only consuming water, but by week three, I found myself betraying the drink I loved ever so much. I was exploring the idea of chocolate milk, Gatorade, and Pepsi (a caffeinated enemy of Dr. Pepper). The lack of taste in my beverage palette plateaued so much, I even began consuming soup like there was no tomorrow, from chicken noodle to ramen, all forms of soup were being consumed as if to imagine the broth as my beloved. I’d begun to forget what Dr. Pepper truly tasted like anymore.Â
“I stayed loyal to my Dr. Pepper by only consuming water, but by week three, I found myself betraying the drink I loved ever so much.”
But at the same time I was betraying my love, Dr. Pepper was doing the same. They’d released a new flavor of the classic beverage, including merch and music. It was as if my beloved had moved on without me, trying to cater to others instead of only me.Â
In the days leading up to Easter, and thus the end of Lent, I was anticipating the reunion Dr. Pepper and I would have. We’d both grown from the last time we saw each other, our palettes had shifted and grown in a short 40 days. We’d become disloyal and betrayed one another in different ways and multiple times. But as the day finally came, and our reunion spurred across Memorial Glade at the annual UC Berkeley 4/20 celebration, it felt like we picked up right where we left off.Â
That first sip of Dr. Pepper felt like love and comfort in one. All my memories and moments with my love had flown right through my bones; it was as if I could cry, but that may’ve just been the smoke throughout the air, because as I drank more and more of my Dr. Pepper, I felt my stomach doing backflips, in a bad way. It felt like I was experiencing the pain from my gallbladder removal surgery again, and that wasn’t a pleasant feeling in the slightest. It pained me to put my beloved away into my tote, but I couldn’t handle them and their caffeine.
So now, as I write this, my beloved has been sitting in my fridge since 4/20. It pains me to see my love locked away, for we’ve truly grown apart, but we must face one another at some point to sort out our misdirection.Â
Rest in peace to the Dr. Pepper in my fridge, for it’ll probably be there until I’m forced to move out and clean my fridge to emptiness. Whilst this may be a love letter to Dr. Pepper, this is also the funeral for my love of the drink. Only time will tell if the love comes back, or if it’s inevitable for me to love something new, that won’t cause my organs to shift.