Befriending the Monster that is Grief
Grief, or the deep emotion associated with loss, is a universal experience. Whether we want it or not, we will all experience grief many times over throughout our lives. What’s important to remember is that grief is normal, and it can look different for everyone. It can even be experienced before a loss, which is called anticipatory grief.
The Monster
Grief can be anguish, sadness, despair, anger or guilt. Regardless of what your grief looks like, it's a monster to befriend. Big and intrusive, it starts out as a hindrance. It fills every room you walk into and breathes down your neck. Every time you think of your loss, you cry. Over time, when processed and sat with, grief softens. You walk through doorways holding hands, and your grief keeps you company at night.
As you grow to know it more, grief brings a smile to your face during its infrequent visits. You reminisce together before it departs. Sometimes, it bangs on your door at night, keeping you up into the wee hours of the morning. But more often than not, it's a quick ‘hello’ before grief is on its way.
Dr. Stephanie and Tembo celebrate a birthday together.
My Grief Journey — My Reason Why
I know grief quite well. My first dog’s name was Tembo, and he was my first significant pet loss. His life and death changed my relationship with grief forever.
Tembo was found roaming upstate New York. He was a handsome, muscular, not-yet-neutered, brindle pitbull mix with patches of merle and white. He was beautiful. He had a microchip, but no one came to claim him. Animal control found him curled up on a porch with a cat — they were keeping each other warm. When they opened the car door, he hopped right in.
Tembo waited seven months at a small facility with few volunteers; if he was walked once a week, he was lucky. But they loved him, and got to know him. So that when we stopped by on our way through town, “just to see,” they knew who the star was. He quickly grew to form as an extension of me — I called him my “warm fuzzy walking heart.” A part of me, inextricably. And there he was.
Tembo is the reason I became a caregiver. In his senior years, he was diagnosed with lymphoma and then degenerative myelopathy — a progressive disease that would first take his ability to walk, then his ability to urinate normally. He went through 8 months of chemotherapy and radiation, ultimately putting his cancer into remission, and it never returned.
But still, he declined. He required three-times-daily medications, weekly acupuncture, hygienic grooming and hydrotherapy, constant urine culture monitoring, and ultimately a stomach tube to prevent recurrent aspiration pneumonia. Our schedule revolved around his care, his medication schedule and his needs. His care consumed us, but we would have done it a hundred times over.
Tembo is the reason I consider euthanasia a gift. When it was time, and maybe a bit after that, I said goodbye to Tembo in the comfort of my own home. On the couch, after his nana fed him a bacon, egg and cheese. His dog sister Laika fast asleep by his side, he passed peacefully. It was the hardest thing to do, and it was a gift to let him go on our terms on the couch, with so much love around him.
““Loving you changed my life. It should come as no surprise that losing you has done the same.””
What I Learned from My Grief
Grief taught me that caregiving (or caretaking) is emotionally and physically draining. Taking care of Tembo was two years of progressively intensive care. It was worth every minute to keep him happy and comfortable. There were sleepless nights, endless loads of laundry, and many, many tears. There were also triumphs: weight gain, successful swim classes, and learning to use his wheelchair.
Grief taught me that their good days become your good days, and their bad days become your bad days. It also taught me how important it is that we take care of the people who are taking care of others — because sometimes they won’t be taking care of themselves.
Grief also taught me that no loss is without gain. Tembo's legacy is one of resilience, love and advocacy. And that is why he is the inspiration for Gentle Journey Vet Care. My grief helps me support others through their caregiving journey.
It is an honor to his memory and legacy to be able to provide that same care and experience for other pet parents. Tembo taught me so much, and I’m thankful to have learned what I needed during those years so I can usher other pet guardians through those hard and loving times and decisions. If you or someone you know is struggling with grief, there are resources that can help. You do not have to navigate your grief alone. And, if you need care for your pet through illness or anticipatory grief, we’d be honored to help — for you, for your beloved, for Tembo.
