Seven Days Later: Grieving The Loss of My Best Friend, Rocky

This post might get a little personal for me. I’m writing exactly how I feel – no sugar coating it. For those of you that have lost a beloved pet, you might be able to relate, and may even feel a little less alone in their own grieving process. I’m not typically one that enjoys journaling or writing down my thoughts to try to make myself feel better, but I found myself needing to write this out.

So I didn’t really make the news public until I posted this blog (it’s a link, you can click it) at 3:46 a.m. Sunday morning about the passing of my best pal Rocky. Since his passing last Friday, I’ve basically only talked to two people and that’s it. I’ve been primarily in isolation, mourning the loss.

It’s been seven days since I had to put my best friend Rocky down. It’s still very gut wrenching, to be honest.

There’s been a lot of sleepless nights & a lot tears cried since last Friday, which probably won’t change any time soon. I’ve been trying to figure out how this could happen to such a special dog. Why it happened. What was next.

You know, I lost the thing that kept everything together. I lost my best friend, that hurt worse than anything. And I lost my travel & adventure buddy.

It’s still very fresh & raw. The process of him leaving this world has been circling in my mind almost non-stop.

It’s sad to think of the future where he won’t be around to experience it with me. Rocky got me through a few different moves & the toughest moments in my life.

Yes, I know he was “just a dog,” although he was much more than that. A lot of people will say that they “understand that he was like family to me.” They “understand” the fact that losing a pet as hard. But, everything is relative, right? Your grief can look so different from mine or anyone else’s, no matter who or what they’ve lost.

And so, to me, Rocky was everything. The fact that he had four legs and fur had no barring on how much I loved him. In fact, I probably loved him more than I would have loved him if he was a human. I was closer to him than any other person on this earth, and I mean that, still today. He was more than just “like family.” He wasn’t even just plain “family.” He was a huge part of my identity, and I lost that when he passed. I don’t want anyone to know me without him. I don’t want anyone in my future to not know who he was. It deeply saddens me to think that so many important people in my life as I age will not know him, because to me, it means they won’t really know me.

My grief has moved in waves. I’ll be fine for a few minutes where I can think about him & smile & enjoy him. But, then when I keep thinking about him, I lose it. So, I begin to try to not think of him, which doesn’t work for too long because then it boils up & I need to grieve. And I let myself do it.

Because, to me, I’m still at the point where, when I’m grieving & crying, it means he’s still within me. And, unfortunately, that’s the best I can get. To still be hurt & crushed means that he’s still close enough in my heart to be hurt from his passing. This probably isn’t the best, most logical thinking, but it’s just my truth.

The hurt & pain of his passing, to be honest, will never to away.

I’ve had a few family members pass away, unfortunately, along with a couple friends and a teacher in high school I was close with. The pain of losing all of them hurt, no doubt.

But the pain & heartache of losing my best friend Rocky, I can admit, is more knife-twisting.

Before you attack me for saying that, the point is, please don’t judge my grief as anything less than real grief. Regardless of whether he was a human or a dog.

I will always try to honor Rocky in any way possible. Whether it’s an anniversary of the devastating day or anything else in life.

To those of you that have reached out & told me that you’re still battling your loss, years after, I hope you know that it doesn’t seem weak to me. It shows me you found the right dog & you had one of those unexplainable miracles, just like I had with Rocky. Some dog people will tell you that, if you’re lucky enough, you’ll happen upon that “one dog.” That was Rocky for me. And I know, when you’re really struggling – days, months, years later – that, that was your Rocky too. And it’s beautiful to know that people experience the same love that I had with him. I’ll take this grief every single day for however much time I have left on earth, because Rocky was worth it.

I love you so much, sweet Rocky. You’ll always be my number one love.

I have literally over a thousand pictures (probably closer to 2,000+) of Rocky, so I won’t be posting all of them, but I wanted to share some.

For those of you that are going through what I’m going through, just know, you are not alone, not matter how much time has passed. We are SO lucky to have been graced with the presence of such innocence, loyalty, and love. You won’t get that anywhere else.

RIP, my baby boy.

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