Two Worlds, One Grief: The Public Mask and the Private Ache

Aug 7

After the initial early months of loss, grief has a strange way of settling in, creating a duality, dividing us into two worlds.

There’s the version of us that moves through the day: who gets up, shows up, smiles when expected, answers messages, and maybe even laughs. And then there’s the version behind closed doors: wrapped in the ache of impending loss or absence, curled up in the quiet, just trying to breathe under the weight of anticipatory grief or missing someone who is no longer here.

When we grieve the loss of a beloved pet, this duality can feel even more isolating. Our grief is not often seen in the same way. It’s often misunderstood or not talked about at all. So we wear a mask.

The outside mask says, “I’m okay.”
The inside voice says, “No, I’m not.”

Some people believe that if we're functioning, working, smiling, holding a conversation, our grief must be over. But on the inside that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You can laugh. You can show up. You can even feel joy. But that doesn’t mean you’re not still grieving. You may now only cry where no one can see you. You feel uncomfortable with your pain in public because it doesn’t feel safe to share. So you hide it. You try to “protect” others from your sorrow, but you are really protecting yourself from being told you’re “too much.”

The world keeps moving, even when yours has stopped. The expectations remain. But just because your tears are unseen doesn’t mean the grief has left; it’s only quietly hidden. You still miss them. You still come expecting them to show up at the door. You carry heaviness in your heart and the love you shared everywhere you go.

Time hasn’t healed you, it’s simply been teaching you how to find a new way to exist in both of these worlds.

It’s exhausting to be in pain and pretend you’re not.
And this, over time, becomes an inner journey:
A process of learning how to live without pretending.
How to be okay in both worlds.

Grief Before, During, and After Loss

Grieving a pet before, during, or after their passing is a heartache that runs deep. They are not “just pets.” They are family. Witnesses to our lives. Their end-of-life journey and their absence is not just emotional. It’s physical. It shows up in the changes and loss of your daily routines with and for them. It echoes in the quietness of your home. Their empty bed, the sound that’s no longer there, the belongings left untouched. The memories sneak in quietly, in the corners of your day.

And then sometimes a fear arrives.

The fear that you'll forget their scent…
The weight of their body curled up beside you…
The sound of their paws on the floor…

And then another fear:
That if you feel okay again, if you smile, laugh, or feel joy, it means you’re somehow leaving or forgetting them behind.

You Don’t Forget. You Carry.

And when you release the pressure of ever forgetting them, you can let go and begin to open to remember differently. You reminisce. You find yourself laughing at the silly things they did. You pause, you may cry and smile at the same time as you remember the memories. Even in the midst of tears, these moments are acts of love in your grieving. They are reminders that your relationship hasn’t ended, it’s changed shape.

Being with grief doesn’t ask you to let go of what you shared. It invites you to hold it in a new way. A softer way. Over time, the sharp edges begin to round. The unbearable becomes breathable. You begin to live around the grief, to let it move through you, and in doing so, allow it to change you. And yes, it is a journey to reach this space inside, but you do.

You don’t “get over” grief.

You grow around it.
You carry it forward.
You let it teach you how to keep loving through their physical absence.

Even when it feels like they’re slipping further away, their scent fading, their leash tucked away, their fur still woven into your carpets and clothes, your body and heart remembers.
Your soul remembers.
The love you shared lives in your cells, your breath, your being. Their love is the energy you shared. Energy is eternal.

Grief lives quietly beneath the surface sometimes, but that doesn’t mean the bond is gone. That love remains pressed into your heart. You are still connected. Just differently now.

You Are Not Alone in This In-Between

If you're living in this duality, between these two worlds, masking for the outside world while quietly aching on the inside, please know this:

You are not broken. You are grieving.
You are not alone. You are loving.
You are not forgetting. You working at remembering in a new way.

Let your grief be seen when you feel safe enough to share it.
Let your love carry you, one breath at a time.
Let your pet’s memory live through the way you continue on with tenderness, presence, and quiet courage.

They would want that for you. They would want you to feel joy again. To keep living, not in spite of your grief, but because of your love you shared. To remember them not just with sadness, but with warmth and joy. For you shared a deep relationship together. Because you loved them and shared life together, that bond is not gone. It’s right here, in your heart, in your body, in your soul, and is in the small, sacred moments where their memory finds you.

They are with you. Always.

I’m Here to Walk With You

If you’re in this space now, holding the weight of grief or feeling it approaching, please know: You don’t have to carry it alone.

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.

Explore a workshop to deepen your connection and understanding of anticipatory grief.
Book a 1:1 session for personalized support
Download a free guide + meditation to help in times of overwhelm

This is a sacred journey.