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This is going to be a bit of a personal column, as tears are falling while writing this, because it hurts. I will try to be as authentic & transparent as I can be here.
Today – March 24, 2024 – marks the one year anniversary of the worst day of my life when I lost my best friend Rocky on March 24, 2023.
Last week I stopped by the vet’s office to give Rocky’s primary veterinarian a thank you card. As I was walking back to my car after chatting with her for a bit, I ended up stopping in the middle of the parking lot after looking at my car, I realized I parked in the exact same spot as I did the day my baby boy passed, & it gave me chills.
Exactly one year later, I remember every single detail of how that day played out. The moment Rocky passed, time stopped. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It felt like a punch to the gut, a pain that cut deep into my soul. I couldn’t believe it at first – how could this be real? It felt surreal, like a nightmare that I still haven’t been able to wake up from. Then came the screams, the sobs, sounds I never knew I could make. In that moment, my entire universe shattered. That moment changed everything.
It was devastating. It still is devastating. Rocky’s passing destroyed me in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend. Yet I do know without a question that it is a level of devastation that won’t “heal” in this lifetime … or any lifetime that contains Rocky’s absence. There will never be a time where I will be done grieving Rocky or learning new ways to somehow exist without my baby boy.
Time doesn’t heal anything, it just teaches how to live with pain.
It’s not about reaching a point of closure; instead, it’s about learning to coexist with the ache. Grief is an unpredictable journey, marked by both vulnerability & resilience.
Grief comes in waves, I’m sure you all have noticed that. It comes & goes. No one talks about how excruciating – physically excruciating – the grief is when you lose a loved one. That the body aches. It feels like, you know if you’ve been hanging upside down too long, there’s like pressure in your head, that’s what my head felt like all the time. I literally think that pain comes in waves on purpose, because if we felt all of that pain all at once I don’t think our physical body could take it – I think we would expire.
Whatever your grief looks like, it is normal.
For thirteen & a half years, when I needed a hand, I found a paw. When my anxiety was bad, I found a paw. When I was really overwhelmed with life, I found a paw. On days I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, I found a paw.
I miss Rocky. Not just once in a while, but every minute of every day. I miss his smile, his beautiful soul. I miss him in the quiet moments & in the crowded rooms filled with laughter. But most of all, I miss the joy that Rocky brought into my world, as well as everyone else’s world. I miss Rocky …. a lot.
Cherish every moment you have with your loved ones, always. Whether they’re animals or humans.
Things I’ve learned in the year since losing my soul dog:
- Pet grief is real
- People can sympathize your pain but only those who can emphasize truly understand your pain
- The pain never goes away
- People will be scared to mention Rocky around me in fear of making me sad, which makes me sad
- You’ll randomly think of the day they passed, no matter how hard you try not to
- You’ll cry & you’ll cry & you’ll cry your friggin heart out
- They’ll send you signs to let you know they’re with you
- Nothing & no one will ever be able to replace them
- You’d die for the dogs you have now or will get, but the bond you had with your soul dog is once in a lifetime
- Endless nights praying that you’ll get to see them in your dreams
I can’t wait to be reunited with my baby boy.
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