I thought I was doing better — until I finished writing this.
By the time I reached the end, I was crying all over again.
So maybe I wasn’t as “okay” as I believed.
But life doesn’t stop, even when your heart feels broken. What my dog left behind wasn’t cold rain — it was something gentler. A kind of quiet nourishment that continues to shape how I live.
Learning to live well, while carrying their memory, is the only way to honor the love they gave us so freely.
When my dog Benny was sick — and especially in the days right after he passed — I searched endlessly for stories about pet loss and grief. Most of what I found said the same thing: you never really get over it.
And maybe that’s true. Grief is the price of love. The deeper the bond, the deeper the pain.
Still, I wanted to share what helped me move through the worst of it — not because the pain disappeared, but because it became survivable. If you’re grieving a beloved pet right now, I hope some of this helps you breathe again.
Stop Rewriting the Past (And Stop Blaming Yourself)
The most important thing I learned was this:
don’t trap yourself in “what if.”
“What if I noticed sooner?”
“What if I chose differently?”
“What if I had done more?”
The past cannot be edited. What matters is this: you loved them, you cared for them, and you gave them a life filled with warmth and safety. That love was real — and it was enough.
Let Yourself Cry — As Much As You Need To
Crying is not weakness. It’s release.
There were days when I cried so hard it physically exhausted me — and afterward, strangely, I felt calmer. If you miss them at work, go to the bathroom and let it out. Holding everything in only makes the grief louder.
Remember Them Intentionally
There’s a line in Coco that says: “Death is not the end. Forgetting is.”
Remember your pet fully. Keep what matters to you — their collar, their favorite toy, a little bit of fur, their ashes if you chose to keep them close. Some people believe in letting go completely; I believe Benny wanted to stay home.
Back up your photos and videos. Don’t trust just one cloud service. I lost files before, so I made multiple physical backups. Memories are fragile — protect them.
Allow Yourself to Believe
When Benny was sick, I prayed desperately. When he died, I told my partner I no longer believed in anything.
And then — quietly — things began to shift.
Small moments. Good things happening. A sense of presence instead of absence.
One morning, half-awake, I opened the curtains without knowing why and saw the most beautiful cloud formation. I grabbed my phone instinctively and took a few photos. Seconds later, the clouds disappeared.
Since Benny passed, both my partner and I experienced unexpected positive changes in our work — small breakthroughs that felt meaningful.
I don’t believe in distant gods anymore.
I believe in resting souls.
I believe that the dog I once cared for is now lighter, freer — and somehow still watching over us.
Stay Busy (Gently)
Work. Hobbies. Anything that gives your day structure.
Too much empty time makes grief echo louder. Being busy doesn’t mean avoiding pain — it means giving yourself anchors.
Take Care of Your Body
Grief is physical.
Eat warm food. Dress comfortably. Drink soup. Rest when you can. Comforting your body helps stabilize your emotions more than we realize.
Don’t Grieve Alone
Spend time with people who understand how deeply you loved your pet. Talk about them. Share stories.
If you’re reading this and feel able, share your pet’s story too. Love deserves to be spoken.
Losing a pet changes you. It doesn’t mean the love ended — it means it became part of you.
And carrying that love forward, imperfectly but honestly, is not moving on.
It’s moving with them.
More Ways to Remember Your Pet
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