This is about losing pets and also it’s not. It’s about grief. Whether you’ve lost a pet, left a job or said goodbye to someone you love dearly it’s mostly about the deep emotional discomfort that can arise when we experience change and loss. It’s about all of us. It’s about being human.
A growing theme in many of my one-on-one conversations over the past two years is that many of us were not taught how to grieve. Rarely was grief modeled for us and even more rarely was it welcomed as a natural response to the loss of something that gave us a sense of who we are. We’ve been taught to mask it and suppress it. When it doesn’t go away in the time frame we’ve imposed on it we begin to wonder why we can’t just get over it or let it go. The usual self-care tools come up short and this leads to frustration and a feeling that something is wrong. We want to manage grief like some rogue employee instead of trust the experience of it as a normal response.
Death.
Divorce.
The abrupt or subtle ending of…anything.
What is the story we tell ourselves about how we are “supposed” to feel?
This isn’t a blog aimed at shifting our focus to the light at the end of the tunnel. This is about normalizing periods of actually being in the tunnel.
It’s about pets and it isn’t.
At the end of February our 13-year-old dog, Kyra, passed peacefully at home. We sat with her as she took her last few breaths and thanked her for being such a good pup to us. We let her know it was ok to go. We assured her that we didn’t want her to be in anymore pain and that she had lived a good long doggy life.
Two months later we lost our lab, Olive, shortly after her first birthday. We had her for a total of nine months. She had a linear blockage in her intestine that required emergency surgery. The vet informed us that Olive’s intestines had been damaged in several areas and she had become septic. Her odds of survival if we decided to move forward with the surgery were less than 20 percent.
We had not planned that this trip to the vet would be Olive’s last. I had not planned that I would be making the tough decision to stop the surgery and therefore end her life. We ended up letting her go from the comfort of our home while she was in the surgery room.
A deep pain set in. Olive’s death led me to experience a grief I had not known, even with the passing of people I love, and left me wondering, “Why was this so painful?”
Did I love this dog THAT much? Was her death an opening that gave my own unexpressed grief a way to finally be set free? Did I do the right thing?
What I know is her death repeatedly invites me to deeply reside and experience the Welcoming Practice I have so often led. To focus, feel and sink into how grief burns in my chest and experience the sensations in my body. To let go of my desire to change so much about the situation and be present with the reality of what is. Letting the emotional energy pass through me as not to consume me. Although it has not gone completely, it is passing and easing in intensity.
Here are ways and resources that have recently supported me in feeling the depth of grief as a means of honoring the whole of who I am.
I share them here in solidarity with those who find themselves in the tunnel. May you know the goodness of normalizing periods of grief as a means of honoring the whole of who you are.
Ways + Resources That Have Helped Me During Loss
I remind myself that grief is holy + sacred
I give myself permission to feel grief viscerally as a normal response to loss and allow my body to respond how she needs
I recognize that the experience and timing of grief doesn’t belong on a timeline for me or my family.
Our family agrees to talk about the things that are weird in the absence of our pets. (example: “It feels weird that there’s not a dog greeting us at the door.” “It’s weird going on a walk without the dogs.”)
Our family talks about the loss with each other and with close friends
Our family shares meaningful memories connected to our dogs as they arise. (“Remember that time Kyra got out and ran all the way to the trees in the nature area and we split up looking for her and then lost each other?!”)
I recognize my reluctancy to be supported and admit that the idea that I have to push through tough times in order to honor work commitments is no longer serving me and allow myself to find my voice in requesting the support I need.
I concscioulsy engage in a Welcoming Practice
I searched YouTube for videos from teachers that resonate with me on why pet loss may feel harder than losing someone we love. Here’s one and another.
I slow down and prioritize the time I need to actually be with the feelings. This meditation from Sarah Blondin served as a resource to help release some of the energy.
May this support you in being where you are.
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