Three Years Later…Grief

Grief…

It is a thing we all have in common, but it looks and feels different to everyone. It comes in its own time… at its own pace…different for everyone.

Losing my beloved Tessie Mae was like having a piece of my heart ripped away. She wasn’t just a pet; she was family, a constant source of joy and loyal companionship. When she left, a void opened up in my life that was hard to fill.

The first days without her were tough. Everywhere I looked, I saw traces of her presence – her favorite spot by the window, the path we walked in the neighborhood, our spot in the backyard playing ball. I’d catch myself reaching out to pet her, only to remember she wasn’t there. Grief hit me in waves, and it felt like I was drowning in sorrow.

But slowly, things started to change. The pain didn’t go away, but it softened around the edges. I found comfort in the memories we shared – the early morning walks, the way she danced and her tiny tail and whole body wagged when I came home. It was like she was still with me, in a different way.

Over time, I realized that grief wasn’t a linear process. Some days were better than others, and that was okay. I’d have moments of laughter and then suddenly be in tears. It was all part of the healing journey. And as much as it hurt, I knew it was a testament to the love we had.

As the seasons changed, so did my relationship with grief. Instead of being overwhelmed, I learned to embrace the waves of emotion. I’d let myself remember the good times, and yes, I’d cry. But those tears were a mix of sadness and gratitude for the moments we had. They were a way of honoring her memory.

And then, one day, I realized that the pain wasn’t as sharp anymore. It wasn’t that I had forgotten Tessie or moved on, but that the pain had transformed into something softer. It became a reminder of the bond we shared, a connection that couldn’t be broken by her physical absence.

Now, when I think of Tessie, I smile more than I cry. Sure, there are moments when I still miss her intensely, but they’re balanced by the warmth of the memories. It’s like she left behind a little piece of herself in my heart, a piece that brings a smile whenever I think of her.

Grief taught me that healing isn’t about forgetting; it’s about finding a way to carry the love forward. Tessie’s paw prints may not be on the floor anymore, but they’re etched in my heart, and that’s where they’ll stay. So, while the ache might not completely go away, it’s a reminder of the beautiful journey we had together. And that’s something I’ll always cherish.