Grieving Lizzie

It’s been 2 weeks since we said goodbye to our sweet Lizzie.Sixteen and a half years of love, barking, cuddles, chaos, and personality… and now the silence is just heavy.

I had pets growing up, mostly cats, and I loved them. But having a dog is just a different kind of bond. The constant attention, the loyalty, the way they follow you from room to room and just want to be with you. Lizzie was my first dog, and I truly didn’t know how much space a dog can take up in your life... and your heart.

She was my shadow. My comfort. My steady companion through so many chapters.I literally couldn’t go to the bathroom without her. She would nudge the door open and sit right at my feet, worse than a toddler crawling in. That’s how close she always wanted to be.

We picked up her ashes and little paw print.I wasn’t ready.

Grief is strange. It catches you off guard. I thought I was doing okay... until I walked into a doctor’s appointment and her dog greeted me, and I completely lost it.

There’s no real playbook for mourning a pet. Honestly, I think there should be a shiva — a few days to gather, be comforted, share stories, eat, just be with people. Even if you're not Jewish, the concept makes a lot of sense when your world feels a little emptier.

We’ve been eating out a lot. Maybe it’s our way of coping... or trying to fill the space that feels so quiet without her in it.

My youngest son, Jake, said something that really stayed with me:“Why is everything from my childhood ending at once? First the house… now Lizzie...”

Midlife is full of these kinds of shifts.Chapters close… even the really beautiful ones.And when the memories are that good, they’re hard to hold without hurting.

If you’ve ever lost a pet, you get it.And if you haven’t, I hope someday you experience the kind of love that makes saying goodbye this hard. 💜