Any grief triggers all grief

Last night I asked Chad what he was scrolling while we were watching our nightly funny show.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘤𝘰.

Well, fuck.

We are getting close to having to let Bosco go. Dementia is a beast, and the thought of him forgetting who we are before we say goodbye is unbearable.

Today, the grief hit me like a ton of bricks when I made a vet appointment to discuss end of life planning with his team.

The catch in your voice.
The tears stinging.
The turn of your belly

All familiar symptoms of grief.
Like old friends coming to visit to remind me how much I’ve loved.

Grief is the evidence that we were courageous enough to love.

And whether it is grief around a dream, a person, a relationship, an expectation, what could have been, or three babies and traditional motherhood, grief leaves you marked forever with the scars of love.

It never gets better.
It simply, and oh so complicatedly, gets different.

It hurts 𝙖𝙣𝙙 it is holy.

As this ache grows, threatening to steal my very breath, especially the closer we get to his last day, I will hold onto, remember, and trust that love is always worth it.