I lost my pet, will life be the same again? Healing from grief and moving forward

How do you use past tense for something so present?

It has been six years since my dog Phoebe passed away, and yet, in conversations, I still find myself slipping into the present tense when I speak of her. It happens when I recall her playful moments—jumping off beds at the vet’s clinic or barking at cats from a distance because, despite her bravado, she was terrified of them. It’s as if pleasant memories reside in the present, and painful, upsetting ones such as her numerous operations, are confined to the past.

Perhaps, it's a subconscious coping strategy for a grief that never quite subsides. There’s always a quiet heaviness that sets in on her death anniversary, and a wistfulness on her birthday in May. What would she be doing, if she was alive and well today, I find myself asking. As a soothing consolation, I just imagine her digging up a garden wherever she is.

Sometimes, that’s all we can do—cling to whatever offers a balm to grief.

‘Life isn’t quite the same’

Grief is always a dubious emotion, owing to its bewildering complexity. A stretch of expansive vastness, and a grief over losing a pet? That’s even more complicated to explain, as most people who have lost something dear to them would explain. For instance, Dubai-based Anwesha Menon, a homemaker, who lost her dog to an illness several years ago, explains why, “I think people understand losing a person better, than a pet, and owing to that reason, we hide our own grief, because we feel that no one will really understand it.”

She adds further: No doubt, people mean well. Yet, sometimes, their well-meaning platitudes sting. “I remember an aunt gently telling me to get another dog. ‘You’ll feel better’, she told me. I didn’t get angry with her, I know she was trying to make me feel better. So, I had to explain to her that another dog wasn’t going to change how I currently felt,” she says. “I lost my dog, not just a pet---a friend, and a sister and comfort. And life is never quite the same after you lose something so close to you,” explains Menon.

It’s true, life might always of course go on, but there’s still a rather subtle, invisible dent. Even if you do settle into new routines that don’t involve walks with them and their structured food timings, a wishful remembrance does always persist, as Menon adds.

Yet, what do you do, if the grief continues to feel so raw?

‘Time, only time helps’

Rebecca Rees, Founder of Rebecomms PR agency, Dubai, lost her dog, last year. Recalling the story of Sam, who had been with her for 17 years, she says, “He won the hearts of everyone he met. When out, he loved nothing more than running in the desert, on the beach or at the dog park. At home, he loved nothing more than following me around to make sure I was safe.”  Once an energetic, mischievous dog who, with a top running speed of 40 miles an hour, would regularly outrun quadbikes in the desert, he started to suffer various age-related issues a couple of years before he was put to sleep.

Rees adds, “Sam’s decline was rapid in his last four weeks.  It got to the stage where he couldn’t stand up without my help.” Last November, she had to put him down.

As Rees says, the grief that has followed has been the worst that she has ever known, with a mixture of intense sadness and physical symptoms that she hadn’t experienced before. Her sleeping and eating went for a toss, and she apologised to understanding clients about her situation.

 “They say grief comes in five stages – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  There was a time that I thought I’d never get through the first four.  I asked myself over and over again: Did I do the right thing?  Did he suffer too long?  Could I have done more to prolong his life?  I still don’t know the answers.” Her other dog, Ella also misses her companion deeply, and keeps looking for him in every room. 

Nevertheless, a trip the UK served as a turning point. “The distraction of being around family, the fresh, cold air and festive atmosphere was a welcome relief and gave me some time to reflect,” she says. His passing still feels extremely raw, and he is still the first thing she ‘sees’ when waking up in the morning. “But it is getting easier.  I now look back with fondness and a smile, rather than visualising his final minutes.  I am now grateful to have had him in my life and given him a wonderful 14 years and a life that all dogs deserve, rather than guilty about what I did, or didn’t, do to make things better for him,” she says.

Living with grief

There are a few lessons in these stories of grief, perhaps: In time, the sadness and bitterness does subside, along with the guilt. As Dubai-based Anneliese Marie, a psychologist explains, “I think first and foremost lesson for any sort of grief, is to just not blame yourself for what happened. Quite often, we let our minds go down this very slippery slope, of what could have been done better. You need to convince yourself, that you did your best for your dog, or cat or anything you held so dear to you.”

Unfortunately there’s never a set of actionable steps and pointers when it comes to overcoming grief and loss, so as she says, just rely on time. “It’s a cliché, but time does slowly heal the wounds. Gradually, just focus on the happier moments with your pets, and not on the last days that are sure to hurt and burn you even more.”

Everyone has a different path to acceptance, she adds. “In theory grief has five stages, but in reality, grief isn’t so linear, and we will always keep going back one step, before moving forward. The point to remember, is just be kind to yourself throughout the process. Just remember the fact that you had something to love so dearly, and they went with the feeling of being loved too. That eases the pain, slightly, at least.”

Love transcends loss, so perhaps true healing lies in embracing the good memories as they continue to live on in the present. After all, what’s grief, if not love persevering?