At a Loss

One of the worst parts of growing older is that everyone around you grows older as well. During my first year of college, my grandmother, Granny Peggy, passed away. The loss of such a great woman deeply impacted my family. My father had lost his mother. My grandfather, Pops, had lost the love of his life. Once she was gone, I was worried about him.

This worry wasn’t in vain. About four years later, he had stopped loving life, and he let go. He passed away during my last year of college. The pair of grandparents was now together, but our family now had a void. They were beautiful people, and I wish that they could have seen me graduate and get married. I know that they had lived long lives and that this kind of loss is a part of growing up.

Yesterday I buried my first puppy, Phoebe. She had been with me since I was little. She got me through some very hard times. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with. She was my baby, but she continued to live with my parents after I moved out. I know that this was best for her. She was used to living in the country, and wouldn’t have done well in my smaller house. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help feeling like I somehow abandoned her. She must not have thought that way, because she was always very happy to see me.

Phoebe was more than a dog, or family pet to me. She was my best friend for years, she was my fur-baby, and I loved her tremendously. Like my grandparents, she lived a long and happy life. I’m grateful for this and that I was able to be a part of it.

Loss is a part of life, but sometimes I am at a loss on how to deal with it.

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