How Loss Changed How I Understand Death and Dying

Pet Loss & GriefSenior Years & End-Of-Life

May 7

I was 17 when I had to make the difficult decision to euthanize my horse, Tim. I remember feeling the weight that I was ending the life of my best friend.

What made it even harder was that I was completely alone in it.

My parents didn’t have the capacity to discuss or support me emotionally, and they said the decision was only mine to make. All of us were floundering in fear, helplessness, and overwhelm, without understanding the gravity of showing up. I didn't have words for all that was happening inside me then, and it's now how my adult self understands my 17-year-old self felt abandoned in one of the hardest moments of her life.

I desperately wished someone had been able to hold space for me, so I could hold space for Tim.

Instead, I shut down. My body grieved what I couldn’t express. I stayed in bed for two weeks. I barely spoke. When I went to school, I felt numb and disconnected, like a ghost moving through the day. I had nosebleeds for four days straight. Looking back now, I understand my body was carrying grief that had nowhere to go.

At the time, I didn’t understand any of this.

I only knew I had lost someone I loved deeply, and I felt utterly alone in it. I shut down and carried on.

Nearly 20 years later, when my dog Nikko died, I was surprised by how much grief from Tim resurfaced. I truly believed I had already “dealt with it.” I didn’t yet understand that unresolved grief often returns through current loss.

I wasn’t only grieving Nikko. Now I was grieving Tim, too.

Back then, I didn’t have the tools, understanding, or support systems I have now. I wasn’t doing the work I do today. I didn’t understand nervous systems, anticipatory grief, emotional suppression, or presence.

I was just surviving it.

Nikko was my first dog as an adult, and there is something uniquely painful about losing your first animal you loved like no other and consciously built your adult life around. For eight months, I cared for her palliatively before her compassionate euthanasia. I went through the motions of care, filled with worry and rarely truly present during our time. It took nearly three months after her passing before I could begin to cry. Grief brain took over, and that time was blurry, and I was influenced by how my childhood understanding of grief and what society believed we should grieve.

What I’ve come to understand is that every loss changes us.
Every loss teaches us something about love, grief, regret, presence, and ourselves.
Each animal that has walked beside me has shaped how I show up for the next.
Some losses taught me what I would do differently.
Some taught me how trauma lives in the body.
Some taught me the importance of support and witnessing.
And some taught me how to stay.
Not fix. Not control. Not avoid.
Just stay present.
Most have taught me to forgive myself for being human and for only knowing what I could know in the moment I was in, with the knowledge I had then.

It was through the role of my aunt showing me a new way to walk beside a loved one dying and how to show up differently for the care and death of my grandmother, that would prepare me for walking beside both of my parents, through alzheimers, dementia, and their palliative care, that I began to deeply understand death can be appraoched without fear and there something called anticipatory grief.

There is a particular ache in losing someone slowly. A daily grieving. A thousand small goodbyes. And there were gifts of joy and deep love, too.

I learned how fleeting life is. I learned how precious ordinary moments are. I learned how much suffering comes from fighting reality, and how much healing can happen when we gently ask ourselves:

How do I want to show up?

At the same time, my work in animal communication was teaching me something profound. Again and again, animals shared with me that they do not fear death in the way humans do.

They experience death as part of life.

Not failure.
Not betrayal.
Not something gone wrong.

But a natural completion of a lived experience.

That perspective changed me.

It softened some of my fear around death and dying. It helped me understand that while loss and grief are painful, death itself is not the enemy we imagine it to be. And that understanding is now at the heart of the work I do. Because I know how terrifying and lonely this journey can feel when people are trying to navigate it alone.

I know the weight of wondering:

Am I doing the right thing?
Am I giving up too soon?
How will I survive this?

I know what it feels like to carry guilt, fear, doubt, and heartbreak all at once. And I also know how healing it can be when grief is witnessed. When the depth of the bond is acknowledged.

When someone says:

I see how much you love them.
I see how hard this is.
You don’t have to carry this alone.

More often than not, people are afraid that if they talk about death, prepare for it, or acknowledge it, somehow it will make it happen sooner. But avoiding death does not stop death. It only leaves people unsupported when it arrives.

What I’ve learned is that preparing for loss does not take away love or the ability to still find joy.

It deepens presence. It allows us to savour moments more fully. To have hard conversations. To make decisions with greater clarity. To show up with intention instead of panic.

This is one of the reasons I created my online courses, Prepare for Your Pet’s Passing and Embracing Deeper Connections.

Not because grief can be fixed. But because support matters.

Because people deserve a space where death and grief can be spoken about honestly, compassionately, and without shame. Because emotions are not a weakness. They are a reflection of how deeply we love from our hearts.

Right now, my 13-year-old cat, Ceelo, is doing well on his medication. In many ways, he feels like himself again. And yet I know we are on a new palliative journey together.

After thesudden loss of my rottie, Bosphorous, five years ago, there is a different kind of awareness in me now with Ceelo and his illness and having time. I, too, get time.

I get to catch my breath rather than hold it.
I can pause and keep reminding myself to.
I let myself feel. (all the feels and with him)
I savour ordinary moments with greater tenderness because I understand how precious and temporary they are.

Ceelo is giving me the opportunity to live the very work I share with others. To heal parts of myself that once felt abandoned and alone in grief. To show up differently. Not perfectly. But more honestly. More presently. More courageously.

If you are facing the illness, aging, or eventual passing of your beloved animal right now, I want you to know this:

You will survive this. Grief will change you, yes. You will not be exactly the same person you were before. But that does not mean you are broken. It means you loved deeply and were loved back even deeper by your animal. The heartbreak will match the depth of the bond you share because love and grief are forever intertwined.

They become part of your story, your heart, your becoming. The animals we love often teach us some of life’s deepest lessons about love, grief, and what it means to stay present.

Do you need support walking this path? You do not have to do it alone anymore.

If you’d like to explore anticipatory grief and learn how to navigate overwhelm with presence, explore the online version of Embracing Deeper Connections,or join the Fall 2026 waitlist for the Live Workshop Version. Together, we’ll walk this journey with your pet, discovering practices that bring clarity, connection, and gentle support. Presence doesn’t erase grief; it moves with it, offering love, steadiness, and space to be fully with your pet.

Are you facing the difficult decision of your pet’s final weeks or days? Explore Preparing for Your Pet’s Passing to help support you.

I offer compassionate, grief-informed support to help you walk this path with more presence, understanding, and love. Whether you’re in the early stages of anticipatory grief or navigating life after loss, there are gentle, grounded ways to reconnect with yourself and your beloved pet.
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