A week is sometimes all we get

I  recently lost my dog to prostate cancer a week after diagnosis.

Seven days was it. All the time left between hearing words I never expected and learning how to say goodbye. One week earlier, life felt ordinary — walks, gentle playtimes, familiar routines, quiet companionship woven gently into each day. Then suddenly, time changed. I found myself noticing everything. The way he looked at me. The rhythm of his breathing. The simple comfort of him being there. There was no slow preparation. Mercifully gentle vet visits, difficult decisions, and the growing awareness that love sometimes means choosing kindness over holding on. Part of me wanting for more time — for a pause long enough for my heart to understand what was happening and yet the equal desire not to allow him to suffer. And yet the days simply kept moving in an uncertain unpredictable adventure of emotion.

When goodbye came, it felt both certain and impossible at the same time.

A week didn't really feel like enough time to prepare, perhaps there is never enough time to prepare. But it was enough time to realise how deeply love had already taken root. How much the last 9.5 years had meant.

And I didn’t yet know that the hardest part was still ahead — coming home to the silence. A pervasive deep invader that was an unwelcome guest that took my breath away with its depth.  

f you’re in the early days of loss, everything can feel overwhelming and hard to take in. You don’t have to make sense of it all right now. If and when you feel ready, you don’t have to walk this part alone.