When an anniversary looms

September has arrived, and with all that comes with a new month, I am reminded that precisely one month from now, my beloved dog Bruce left this world two years ago.

I miss him.

 As I start to write more, I can feel a heaviness around my chest begin to rise, and tears start to form in my eyes. It doesn’t last long, but it’s there.

This reminds me of how my grief has moved, how it has changed shape, and how I can sit longer in my fuller memories (not just his death), with the emotions and sensations in my body that felt impossible two years ago, one year ago, six months ago…

This passing of time does not mean I will ‘get to the end.’ There is no ‘final destination’ for grief being over – it doesn’t happen that way, and if that were a path I could take, I would never choose it. Two years ago, I might have, because the pain felt unbearable then. But now, I understand that grief is suffering AND…

Grief is the thread that keeps us connected through love – it is the price we must pay for loving deeply, and I loved Bruce with my whole being – he was my soul dog, my family, my constant. 

So, as I sit with my thought and emotion, I look around my office and I see everywhere has been touched by Bruce – or, as I like to say, everything has been ‘Bruced!’  20cm to my right is a cup, designed by a dear friend after his death. Then there is the painting of him that I had done when I knew we probably didn’t have much time left. And when I look at the floor, I see Mabel, sleeping in the same sunspot that Bruce loved in my office.

I feel sad, and I feel joy at the same time – a reminder that both emotions can coexist. Because now, I can carry both sorrow and smile at the warm and often funny memories I have.

If you are reading this and thinking, ‘I’ll never get there, ‘you don’t understand, or ‘you clearly didn’t love him as much as you say you did,’ that’s okay! I get it.  And the truth is, maybe you won’t ever feel okay again – I have certainly experienced the depth of believing I wouldn’t be okay again, wondering how on earth I would climb out of this swamp this time. 

But I hope that in time, even if it takes years, which it often does, you learn that being okay doesn’t mean moving on and forgetting.

Grief stays because love stays – and for me, that’s something I would never want to end.