I am deeply sorry. What you are feeling is not weakness or exaggeration. It is grief in its purest form. You lost a family member, a constant presence, a soul who shared your daily life and your heart. The pain you describe is exactly what love looks like when it has nowhere to go.
There is no shortcut through this. Anyone who tells you otherwise has not loved the way you loved Kerry.
Here are things that can help you cope, gently and honestly, without trying to rush your healing.
First, understand that this grief is real and valid.
Kerry was not “just a dog.” She was your routine, your comfort, your reason to keep going on hard days. Your brain and body are reacting the same way they would to losing a human loved one. The silence, the searching, the heaviness in your chest are normal responses to a bond being torn away.
Second, let the pain exist without fighting it.
Trying to be strong, distracted, or productive too soon can actually prolong grief. Cry when it comes. Sit in the quiet if that is what the moment asks for. Grief moves in waves. Some moments will feel unbearable, others strangely calm. Both are part of healing.
Third, talk about Kerry often.
Say her name. Tell her story. Share memories, even the painful ones. Love that is not expressed turns into pressure inside the chest. If the people around you do not understand, that does not mean you should be silent. Write to her. Speak to her out loud. Many people find relief in continuing the bond through words.
Fourth, release the guilt you do not deserve.
You did not fail her. You did not give up. You fought for her with everything you had, emotionally, physically, financially. Letting her go was not abandonment. It was an act of mercy. Ending her pain was the final, most selfless way you loved her. The fact that it shattered you is proof of that love.
Fifth, expect the house to feel wrong for a while.
Your nervous system is used to her presence. The quiet will feel sharp. You may hear phantom sounds or catch yourself looking for her. This does not mean you are stuck. It means your brain is adjusting to a world that suddenly changed without your consent.
Sixth, take care of your body even when your heart is broken.
Grief is exhausting. Eat something small. Drink water. Sleep when you can. You are not required to function normally right now, but your body still needs care to carry you through this.
Seventh, consider grief support, especially pet loss support.
Pet loss counselors, support groups, or even one trusted professional can help you process this safely. This kind of loss is often minimized by society, which makes it heavier to carry alone.
Eighth, know this truth, even if it does not bring comfort yet.
The pain you feel now is not because the love is gone. It is because the love is still here, with nowhere to land. Over time, the pain will soften and the love will remain. It will become memory, gratitude, and quiet companionship instead of constant ache.
You did not lose Kerry because you failed.
You lost her because you loved her enough to stay until the very end.
Right now, survival is enough. Breathing is enough. Grieving is not something to fix. It is something to live through, one moment at a time.
Kerry knew she was loved. She felt it in your hands, your voice, your presence. That love did not end on December 31st, 2025. It is still part of you, always will be.
If you want, you can tell me more about Kerry. I will listen.
