Where do we learn how to grieve? That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately. I know we learn about grief through loss. But the how part, I’m still not sure. Do we learn from our family and friends? From what we see on tv or read about in books?
Once upon a time, my Will and I got married in the middle of the California wine country. The sun was hot. The hills were golden. We were surrounded by loved ones. A few days after the ceremony we flew down to San Jose del Cabo to spend our honeymoon at a rustic inn that was truly off the beaten path. We had to rent a roll bar Jeep because getting there involved four-wheeling across a dry arroyo bed and shuddering up into the dusty foothills on the outskirts of town. We were the inn’s only guests.
One of our first mornings in Mexico, I woke with the sunrise, laced up my running shoes, and headed down the empty riverbed with the innkeeper’s four dogs tagging along for company. A mile or so into our run, the dog pack suddenly bolted. They sprinted past me, barking like mad and honed in on something hidden in a tangle of overgrown bushes. Then came a terrible squeal. I ran faster. I thought the dogs had pinned a rabbit, but when I got there, I found them tearing at a tiny puppy. So I did what everyone would do: I shooed the dogs off, picked the puppy up, and took him home with me. All the way back to California! Will and I named him Milagro. We call him Milo. Our honeymoon surprise.
Almost 13 years, 4 moves, and 3 children later, Milo has become an old man dog. Well, he’s been old for a while now. He has arthritis and thyroid problems. Cataracts, too. But lately he’s gotten even slower. It’s harder for him to eat and drink. He still loves lying in the sun and having his ears stroked, but his own sunset is near. We know this.
Our children are lucky. They haven’t lost anyone close to them. Yes, death has touched their world—a playmate’s mother, my friend’s dear baby, a great grandmother I wish they’d known better—but they haven’t yet lost a person that they loved and who loved them back. So Milo, in his doggy passing, will be their first painful loss. It will also be practice for greater losses to come. Although that’s knowledge I have—they don’t—so it feels sad to qualify or reduce their loss just because Milo isn’t a person. Milo’s a person to them, even though he’s an animal too.
Steph, What a beautiful but bittersweet story. I’m so sorry about Milo. It was like he was meant to be yours and you were meant to be his. xxx
<3 <3 <3
As a non-animal person, it always takes a moment for me to get into someone grieving over a pet. But, grief is a personal thing. Even though I may think condolences with my head, and maybe even with heart, the people who are actually closest are the ones who really grieve.
This month I’ve had two deaths of my Japanese co-workers. And the thin that comforted me most was that they both really lived. You know, they did a lot, and enjoyed life. Seems like Milo had the same.
Thank you, Claire. I am so sorry to hear about your coworkers. That’s unbelievably sad. I know human loss can’t be compared to the loss of a pet, although I sometimes think the magnitude of a loss is measured by the people left grieving, not the one who died, and to some people, their animals are everything. Best wishes to you and your coworkers.
I think our grief comes from regret. There is that awful regret when something/one is taken too soon from us and we’re not ready to let go. And sometimes people regret that they didn’t say or do enough before a person passes on out of their lives. I also am counting down the last days of my dog’s life and was really shocked when my seemingly, healthy cat just died. On top of that, I lost two of my residents (I work with the elderly) last week. I see death a lot and what it is teaching me is to open up and praise people for why I like them (to their face) instead of just assuming they know they are wonderful. Enjoy your dog, or friend or family member now because it will end someday. Appreciate them now because tomorrow you might not have that chance. And I’m sorry you have to say goodbye to your dog. Mine has helped me through many hard times.
Janine, what beautiful words. You are so right about regret being at the core of grief…and it’s such a painful thing because that regret can never be fixed. I’m sorry about your dog and about your cat. Thank you for the reminder to appreciate loved ones now and to not hold back loving them.
Hello, Stephanie. I am a new Twitter follower and a fellow YA writer. I thought I’d check out your blog to get to “know you” a little. I’m glad I did. Loved this post, as I, too, have lost a beloved dog.
Incidentally, I’ve met your agent, Michael. He is certainly “top shelf” and gave me some encouragement and great suggestions when I sent him my YA last year. I’m looking forward to reading your book CHARM & STRANGE.
Thank you so much, Jane! It’s great to hear from you. I’m so sorry to hear about your sweet dog. Thank you again for your kind words. It’s much appreciated. And happy writing! It’s always great to connect with other YA writers!