Journal · One week later 🐾

One Week After Losing My Dog: Why Grief Still Comes in Waves

Life is starting to move again—but I don’t feel ready to move with it.

One week ago, I held my dog while he took his last breath.

Seven days sounds like more time than it feels.

I thought by now I might understand what happened a little better.

I don’t.

But something has changed.

Seven days sounds like more time than it feels.

1. I had a normal moment—and felt guilty

Today, something made me laugh.

Just for a few seconds.

Then I remembered him.

And almost immediately I felt guilty.

How could I laugh when he has only been gone for a week?

I know loving him doesn’t require me to be miserable every minute.

But my heart hasn’t quite learned that yet.

People have stopped asking me every day if I’m okay.

Work messages are coming back.

Emails to answerGroceries to buyThings that still need doing

The world didn’t stop when mine did.

I don’t blame anyone for that.

It just feels strange.

I canGet out of bedEatAnswer a message without cryingMaybe work for a while

Then something small happensI see his leashI reach for his bowlI think I hear him

And suddenly I’m right back there.

I’m starting to understand that feeling better for an hour doesn’t mean the grief is gone.

Not by how much I cryNot by workNot by whether I smiledNot by how often I revisit the decision

This week’s list is simple:

It has been one week.

I loved him for years.

I don’t think seven days is supposed to undo a life built around someone.

Maybe getting through grief isn’t about missing him a little less every day.

Maybe, slowly, I am learning that missing him and living my life can exist at the same time.

And for one week,

that’s enough.