In collaboration with Beth Bigler, Pet Loss Grief Counselor
Grief is one of the most challenging and heart-wrenching experiences we will ever face in our lives. While we try to move forward the best we can, we continue to feel the loss of our loved ones. Pet loss grief, in my experience, feels like losing both your best friend and your child.
Sometimes, those who are not pet parents will believe that losing a pet is not as significant as losing a human loved one. With that in mind, and to also support my own feelings with the loss of my sweet Reesee girl, I want to share my story. It is my hope that this helps those of you who are going through your own pet loss grief to feel supported, and to let joy in too.
On April 27th, I had to make the most heart-breaking decision of my life. I reached out to Pet Loss at Home to request the date of May 6th for my Reesee girl, my closest companion, to have in-home euthanasia and cross the rainbow bridge. She was just months away from her 15th birthday, and I was completely devastated having to accept that her life had an end date, in just one week. In the days that followed, I dealt with the rollercoaster of emotions that come with anticipatory grief. I found myself caught between thoughts that I was doing the right thing and thoughts that I was being selfish by playing God.
The truth is, I knew in my heart that Reesee's quality of life was barely there, and I didn’t want her to struggle anymore. Before I made my decision, I had noticed a significant decline in her well-being, which involved limited mobility, several falls, and frequent accidents in the house. I could also sense that our walks were no longer special to her because neurologically, she wasn't fully there, and often, I had to hold her up and guide her along.
Leading up to our last day together, I tried my best to not let her see my devastation, and I wanted to still continue with our familiar routine. I gave her special treats throughout the week, including ground beef and whipped cream, and took some time off from work so we could spend more time together. I still felt wrecked, and during that week, I was at her bedside, petting her and holding onto one of her paws, with tears pouring down my face.
One of the sweetest moments we shared, on the morning of May 5th, our last full day together, was when I picked Reesee up and put her on my bed for the first time in over a year. Her blindness and neurological decline from Canine Cognitive Disorder made it unsafe for her to be on my bed. She lay down and put her head on my knee and we simply sat there in silence to cherish the love and comfort of that present moment. That was our bond and it was beautiful, beyond words.
On the morning of May 6th, our final hours together, I was surprised that my emotions were calmer. I even remember my cheerful “Good Morning,” to Reesee as she was just waking up. Dr. Kinkade would be coming to my place at 3pm to help her cross the rainbow bridge, so I had to find my strength and make the most of our last moments. I gave her breakfast and I took her outside a few times. Once my parents arrived close to noon, I felt the rush of my heartache. Reesee and I only had a few hours left, so I sat beside her to hold her paw, and hug and kiss her.
By the time Dr. Kinkade arrived, I felt numb and speechless, and yet, I somehow remained strong for Reesee. I knew what my role was, to be there for her as she peacefully transitioned, and that helped me stay focused without letting my emotions take over.
I helped Reesee lie down comfortably on her side, rubbed her belly, kissed her head, and whispered into her ear, “I love you,”as she slipped into incredible peace. I didn’t know what else to say to her in those last moments. I felt guilty at first, that I couldn't share some profound words with her. It didn’t take long though to remind myself of the extra special bond that we shared, filled with unconditional love. She knew how much I loved her.
Once Dr. Kinkade confirmed that she had transitioned, I burst into tears and said, "Run free, Reesee." In that moment, I felt the immense sorrow of grief and loss, but I also experienced peace that I cannot fully express in words. It was other-worldly. She looked like a sleeping angel, and witnessing that changed my life forever. I knew I made the right decision for her because she was no longer suffering.
The day after we said goodbye, guilt did set in, and I know my fellow pet parents can relate. Could I have waited a little longer? Was she aware of what was happening? Was she ready? Did I wait too long? Luckily, it only took a few days for this guilt to be replaced with more peace, as Reesee sent me the most incredible sign!
A week before we said goodbye, I asked Reesee, "What are you going to send me for a sign?" Our souls agreed it would be something that reminded me of the pink felt rose attachment on her collar. So, a pink rose or pink flower.
On Tuesday May 9th, just three days after we said goodbye, right before 8pm,
I felt a nudge to take a walk to a nearby beach. When I got there, I told Reesee how much I missed her, and asked her to send me a sign. Nearly seconds later, as I walked to my left, I found a pink tulip laying on the sand! With tears welling up in my eyes, I wrote this poem on the spot:
Are you really in Heaven now? Did we say our goodbyes? Did I tell you,"run free," with tears in my eyes? Our place is so empty, I feel so alone. I keep waiting around as if you'll come home. I know you're at peace, just as I would wish. I told you, "I love you," and gave you a kiss. Can you promise me something as I walk on my own? Can you send me a sign so I feel less alone?
That single tulip wasn't all I would receive that evening, and as I started to leave the beach, I turned to my right and noticed a beautiful trail of more pink tulips...I couldn't believe my eyes, as I had never seen anything like this before! I remember saying to myself, "What is happening right now?!" Although I was shocked to receive a sign from Reesee so soon after her passing, I also wasn't because I knew that not even death could separate us and the love we had shared.
Did you know that tulips symbolize, "perfect and deep love"? I had looked up the spiritual meaning of tulips soon after experiencing this amazing sign and learned that we give tulips to those, "who we have a deep, unconditional love for." Reesee showed me how much she loved me in the most powerful and spiritual way!
I feel so incredibly fortunate that just a day before saying goodbye to Reesee, I came across Beth Bigler's Instagram account @honoringouranimals and followed her right away. Beth is a Pet Loss Grief Counselor who has dealt with pet loss herself. Those experiences inspired her to pursue this work and support other pet parents. She sent a welcome message to me as a new follower, and I replied to her that I was saying goodbye to Reesee the next day. In the evening the next day, she left me the kindest voice message, telling me that she was thinking about Reesee's safe passage, and that she hoped it was meaningful, loving, and supportive as I helped her through her completion of life. She also reminded me to be kind and gentle with myself and to rest and hydrate, which I really needed to hear. It's so easy to neglect our own needs when we are experiencing grief.
The hardest part of my grief has been the feeling of extreme loneliness. The emptiness I've felt in my soul of Reesee no longer physically being with me in our space is so tough. Only her bed, a few toys, collar, leash, and paw print remain. I set up a memorial as well, with a wooden pink tulip I found at a gift shop and a drawing I made of her three years ago with some lyrics from "Rainbow Connection." While I sleep each night, I turn on the candle in her honor.
In Beth's posts, she encourages us to honor our pets however we choose, and offers ways to express our grief, which includes journaling. The day after her passing, I wrote a letter to Reesee in my journal, which helped me communicate my deepest love and gratitude for the wonderful almost 9 years we shared together. I adopted her from my aunt when she was 6 years old on October 11, 2014. It was the best day of my life!
This reminder really stood out to me in one of Beth's posts: "taking care of yourself during pet loss grief is the most important way to honor your beloved." Part of my self-care so far has included lots of daily walks in nature, reading several novels, and stepping up my health and wellness routine. I've still found myself thinking about all the ways I want to continue to honor Reesee's legacy, and I often forget that the most important part of this is to first make sure I'm taking good care of myself. Once I'm meeting my own needs, it's much easier to move forward and keep her spirit alive.
What I’ve learned about grief over the past four months is to let myself feel all the feelings, even laughter and joy. There is still room for joy, even in the midst of grief. I've laughed watching videos of Reesee running so fast with the zoomies! And I've felt so much love and warmth watching videos that capture her sweet personality and adorable sleepy-time positions. It’s ok to have sad days when I cry my eyes out, but it’s also ok to not cry some days and experience joy within my own life. Beth emphasizes that there’s no right or wrong way to go about it, but the best first step to take is to feel everything.
A few months ago, I reached out to Beth after she shared a specific post about allowing ourselves to feel hope, laughter, and joy. I asked if I could include her tips in this blog post, and she was thrilled to collaborate! She even created the two graphics below. Thanks, Beth!
In this quote shared in the post, Beth expresses that we should welcome joy, without punishing ourselves with guilt and shame afterwards. Just because we allow joy in, it doesn't mean we are no longer honoring our beloved pets or don't love them enough.
She also recommends asking ourselves these question to better understand our feelings:
Are you really damaging your relationship by feeling something other than pain?
Is your suffering a barometer for your love?
Are you punishing yourself intentionally?
Is sorrow the legacy you want to give your animal?
Do you like who you are becoming in your grief?
Is pain a "louder" emotion for you than others?
Beth emphasizes that the key focus is to be kind to yourself so you can release those feelings, and "allow a ray of self-compassion to pierce your grief." Our beloved pets would not want us to be sad all the time. They are no longer suffering, and they wouldn't want us to suffer with our own self-deprecating feelings. The lessening of our pain as we continue to move forward is not a betrayal to our pets. In fact, she says that our loving relationship with our pet will actually grow and deepen forever as we continue to find joy in our lives.
I've found so much comfort and support in Beth's content. On her website, she offers both Anticipatory Counseling and Post-Loss Counseling. If you are in need of any of these services, I encourage you to check out her site and also join her @honoringouranimals Instagram community. Once a month, she holds an Instagram live memorial, and you can submit your name and your pet's name to be mentioned during the service. Reesee and I were mentioned in the service at the end of May. I was so deeply touched by that experience and the opportunity to be part of something that honored the magical and eternal bond with our pets.
My heart goes out to all of you who have experienced pet loss grief and I'm sending you all the love. We are always going to miss our fur babies...that grief never goes away because we love them so much. Please know that you always have my support as you navigate your own grief. I encourage you to feel all your feelings, talk to your pets in spirit and ask for signs, share your memories with others, and take good care of yourselves while letting joy in.
Keep shining!