Grief, Love, and Letting Go
As some of you may know, we have two beautiful pets, our Oliva, the stunning husky you’ve seen all over my socials, and Nani Marie, our elder mini schnauzer.
Nani wasn’t one for the spotlight here, but she was deeply loved. especially over on our Rednote space, and most of all in our home.
For 14 years, she was more than a pet.
She was my oldest son’s best friend.
Our shadow.
Our comfort.
Our fluffy little constant.
On Sunday afternoon, Nani Marie went back to Heaven.
She lost her battle with cancer and old age.
And even writing that still doesn’t feel real.
I thought we had more time.
I thought the limping could be managed, the weight loss reversed, the strength restored with just the right combination of meds, fluids, and hope.
I walked into that vet appointment ready to fight,
arguing her case like it was something I could win if I just explained it well enough.
But then something shifted.
I saw her.
Not the version of her I wanted to hold onto,
but the one that was tired… frail… hurting.
And in a way I wasn’t prepared for, I saw myself too.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been coming to terms with my own limits, what it means to live in a body that hurts, what it means to consider things like a DNR, not out of hopelessness… but out of honesty.
And suddenly, this wasn’t just about her.
It was about suffering.
About dignity.
About love that doesn’t cling… but releases.
I made the most painful decision I have ever made
to let her go.
To stop the cancer from taking more from her.
To let her rest.
The vet told me it was the greatest gift I could give her
a life free from suffering.
And I hear that.
I understand that.
But grief doesn’t always listen to reason.
Because what’s left behind is this:
The silence.
The empty food bowl.
The absence of tiny footsteps.
The quiet where her bark used to live.
And the questions…
Where does that love go?
Where does she go?
If energy can’t be destroyed, only changed
Then where is she now?
I don’t have answers.
What I do have is grief.
And guilt that feels heavier than logic.
Because even when you know you did the right thing…
it can still feel like the wrong one.
So how do we deal with this kind of pain?
I don’t think we “deal” with it.
I think we carry it.
Because grief is just love
with nowhere to land.
And maybe, just maybe,
we learn to let it land differently.
In memories.
In the quiet moments.
In the meantime, we still reach for them without thinking.
In the love that hasn’t gone anywhere…
even if they have.
For Nani
You did not leave loudly
no grand goodbye,
no slammed door between worlds.
You softened.
Like the last light
slipping through the window
when the day is too tired to stay.
We held you
with hands that were never ready,
with hearts that begged for more time,
with love that did not know how to end.
Your small body
carried so much
pain, years, loyalty,
a lifetime of loving us without question.
And still,
you looked at us gently
as if to say,
it’s okay now.
So we did the hardest thing
We loved you enough
to let you rest.
Now the house is quieter
in all the wrong ways.
No soft steps,
no sudden barking at invisible things,
no warm little presence
Following love from room to room.
Just echoes…
and memories
that sit beside us like ghosts made of light.
If there is a place
where tired bodies are made whole again,
we know you are there.
running without pain,
whole without struggle,
waiting somewhere soft
where love does not end.
And if love has weight,
if it lingers in the air
Then you are still here, Nani.
In every quiet moment.
In every breath we take
through the ache.
You were not “just a dog.”
You were home.
And you always will be.
Call to Our Community
If you’ve ever loved a pet, then you understand—
They are never just animals.
They are family, memory, comfort, and pieces of our hearts that we don’t get back the same way.
If you’ve lost a furry friend… or if you’re loving one right now—
I would love to see them.
Share their name.
Share their story.
Share the photo that makes you smile or cry or both at the same time.
Let’s fill this space with the love they gave us.
Let’s remind each other that even though they leave our arms,
they don’t leave our lives.
Drop your photos and memories below, or tag me so I can see your babies.
Tonight, we remember them together.
And in remembering them… they stay.
Nani’s Memorial can we found here. https://tinyurl.com/Nanimarrie
