Letter 41: Working alongside grief.
Rogue Humans is a weekly newsletter digging into the challenges of life in the modern world of work and beyond.
Reading: What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher. I’m loving this series of folklore-type horror with characters who can make me laugh right now when I really need it.
Listening to: Yours Cruelly by Elvira. Fantastic audiobook narrated by Elvira herself. She is so fantastic.
On Tuesday we had to say goodbye to the best chihuahua on the planet, Cricket.
She made it nearly 15 years but we were really hoping for at least 20 good ones.
It became very obvious last Monday morning that something had changed.
She smelled different, looked different, acted different. We made the painful decision to let her rest and be pain free.
This is the 6th animal I’ve been through this with, and it was my partner’s first one. And the first one is always leveling and devastating in a way that’s hard to explain. And still, even though I had gone through this before it only made it easier in terms of knowing what to expect from a logistics perspective.
The grief hits different every time.
A friend of mine told me that grief is so hard with animals because we really do only remember good things because that’s who they are - too pure and just absolutely perfect the way they are.
Then, to add insult to injury, the next day our pug Penny’s tumor started bleeding badly, and I had to set up a time for next week to do this all over again. This feels unfathomable, and we knew they would likely go close to one another, but I’m very much so having a tough time with all this grief.
Arriving at the raw truth that both of our Littles will be gone.
My eyes and my sinuses are sore from crying. I disassociate often. On a podcast I recently listened to on death (that I cannot recommend enough) grief is described as feeling a bit like a dream. Everything seems surreal - the flowers a little brighter, smells are a bit more sharp.
My partner described grief feeling like you’re a half inflated balloon, of drifting down the sidewalk without a focused destination or purpose.
I nodded in agreement as we walked our third and healthy dog down the street in a daze, not knowing what day it was or what time it was.
All of these things are happening amidst our work lives, of course. We took some time off, yes, but we both have found ourselves caught between cravings distractions and also wanting to sit and acknowledge the grief as it’s happening.
And so we’re kind of trying how to figure it out right now.
How I’m handling grief and work:
I’m communicating with both colleagues and clients that I’m in a tough spot right now so that if I seem checked out or sad or not my usual bubbly, ideating self there’s a really good reason for it.
If a Grief Wave hits me I need to be able to let it, and check out for a bit. Suppressing grief feels a lot like holding your breath underwater for too long.
I have no idea how I’m going to be after I say goodbye to Penny next week, who has been my dog for about 12 years since I rescued her. I’m letting folks know it’s coming so I can be gone if I need to be.
I’m not expecting this to suddenly “end.” Grief doesn’t work like that, of course, but we as humans have an uncanny way of forgetting that this is not linear and it’s not about getting “over” something. It’s about moving through it.
My partner and I have an amazing community of support which has so been appreciated. There’s also been people who I’m slightly shocked I haven’t heard from as well.
And that’s just part of the journey right now. Experiencing all of it: the imperfections and the judgments, the gratitude, the pain, the memories, and the appreciation for the time we’ve had with these magical creatures and how much we love them.
This weekend we are spending as much time as possible with Penny and giving her all the treats and walks and snuggles she could want. We’re taking lots of pictures and telling her stories about all the adventures we’ve had together (a brilliant idea that my partner came up with while walking with Cricket last week.)
I’m super grateful next week is a short one. I’ve never experienced a double death whammy like this before.
The best I can do is let myself feel things, and know that the kindest and hardest gift we as pet owners can do is relieve them of their pain.
Please send a well wish into the universe for The Littles. For Penny and Cricket for safe travels home, where they can romp and play and have all the joy their next adventure offers. They’re going to be missed in ways I can’t even express.
Thanks much for reading this heavy post. I know it’s. a lot.
Life is life, you know? Death happens, and it’s hard and it’s beautiful all at once. Feeling everything is a part of the experience.
And right now we are certainly feeling it all - but mostly what we feel is love.
I hope you have a wonderful week ahead.
Cheers,