Take Time to Grieve and Transform
In early June of this year, my six-year-old Siberian husky, Maximus Decimus, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. According to the tests, the cancer had spread to at least six of his other organs, and there were several large masses in his stomach. I was absolutely devastated. I am still shocked by this diagnosis. He was a relatively healthy, active dog until he showed signs of deteriorating health—he had stopped eating consistently for a week before our visit to the emergency pet hospital. The veterinarian advised that Max had days to live. For about a week after our visit, Max showed signs of fight, improvement, and life. Unfortunately, a second opinion confirmed Max’s diagnosis, and we decided to take Max under palliative care. There was no cure for the cancer, and there were no future treatments advised. Even so, it did not feel right to cut Max’s life short so long as he was not in pain and he showed signs of happiness; we decided to let Max go when he was ready to go. I thought we had more time together because he showed signs of improvement, but his health deteriorated quickly toward the end of June.
On the evening of July 2, 2023, Max really struggled with his breathing, and we didn’t sleep all night. I had a deposition that next morning (that I actually took and did well) and checked up on Max during my breaks. He refused to take his steroids and pain medicine, and he had not eaten since the previous morning. After the deposition, we managed to get him to take his medications, and we spent time together, but we knew this was it. He went for one last car ride along the ocean and beach, and we picked up all his favorite things to eat. Before we got to the vet, he passed away in my arms. While this was probably the best way for Max to leave this world (he hated the vet), I was completely traumatized. He glanced at me one last time, and I felt his last breath. By the time we got to the vet, Max was lifeless in my arms, and I didn’t have the heart to get up. Max passed away on July 3, 2023, less than two weeks before his seventh birthday. The unconditional love I received for years from my pet just disappeared. I have never felt pain like that before, and I’d like to think I’ve encountered and endured a lot of trauma in my life that would prepare me for something like this. I was wrong. I bring this up because it doesn’t matter what kind of loss you go through. Loss is loss, and any loss requires time to grieve. There is no real preparation for loss. Grief cannot be ranked.
Loss of any kind can hurt. It takes time to heal, and the grieving process is different for everyone. The more it hurts, the more that loss likely means to you. However great the loss and all the trauma that comes with it, you need to allocate time to grieve properly, even if other obligations in your life, such as work, demand your time. I am still going through this process with the loss of Scott. And with Max, I am just taking it day by day. I understand that our time together after his diagnosis was, in a sense, borrowed time, and I am so grateful for it, even though there were so many challenges caring for a pet with cancer every single day. We brought Max’s ashes home a week after he passed away. I still have moments where my soul feels broken. Even with all the pain and uncertainty of the future, I personally chose to transform for the better after (and during) any loss because life is too short not to live it fully in the happiest, most fulfilling way. Our loved ones would want us to. The pain I feel from the passing of a loved one shows me how much they meant to me. And the pain is a reminder of the happy memories we shared. The purpose of healthy grieving is not to “get over” the death of a loved one but to integrate the experience of the death of a loved one into present life. So, try to be positive, push forward, and show gratitude. As long as we are still alive, we can choose to be impactful members of our communities and help cement our own legacies while carrying the legacies of the ones we lost.