Why can’t time just hold still?
Is it just you, or is the clock ticking louder these days? All you want to do is go back to the time before your best friend required medication, before all the doctor visits, before they had trouble getting around, before they stopped eating, before their hair turned white, before your heart was filled with the intense dread of one day being without them.
They’re still physically with you, but it’s so damn hard to relax and enjoy your time together like you used to because you know time is running out. You can’t even look at them without thinking about the end. It’s like all the sad and anxious and terrified thoughts have hijacked your brain (and don’t get me started on the stress from all the new medical expenses).
This is living with anticipatory grief—the grief that comes from anticipating an upcoming loss, and mourning all the accumulated little losses (like changes in their routine, behavior or mobility) along the way. And it can be a living nightmare.
“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.”
— Aeschylus
Watching your pet slowly—or rapidly—decline is a truly heart-wrenching experience that comes with its own unbearable weight.
You’re doing your level best to keep them comfortable and give them the best care, all while grieving what has been, fearing what’s to come, and working like hell not to fall apart.
It’s like standing in the middle of a long, rickety suspension bridge. There are no handrails; all around you is empty air. You can’t go back the way you came and the way ahead is dark. No comfort. No escape. Only a continuous tension, a persistent dread, that paralyzes you.
How do you survive this? How are you supposed to function? How do you fully inhabit and enjoy the moments you have left? How do you balance taking care of yourself so you can keep showing up for your baby?
My hope is that A Touch of Moxy’s community and resources help you live the answer to these questions while you carry this weight with courage, grace, and endless self-compassion. I see you.
And in the meantime, may you and your beloved have many more good days.
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
— A.A. Milne
Let us help you carry this weight.
