On Grief
for anyone moving through a season of loss
This essay was written in the first raw days after losing our magical dog, Pita. It is my attempt to name what grief feels like in real time — not neatly, not resolved, but honestly. I’m sharing it because so many of us move through life trying to be “okay,” even when the ground has fallen out beneath us. If you’re in a season of loss, visible or invisible, may this help you feel less alone. Writing is how I process my life.
I have been fortunate in my 43 years to not lose many humans I love. I’ve known grief in other ways — the dreams I thought I wanted that didn’t work out, the years I wasn’t my full self, the anticipatory grief of watching my mother’s health slowly decline. But when it comes to death, I’ve only experienced the deepest, most disorienting grief through two animals: my puggle of 16 years, Cashew, and our rescue dog, Pita, who died tragically and suddenly last week, just before his 8th birthday on 12/12.
