One year. That’s how long it’s been since my dog Sawyer died. One year since I last pet him, held him, played with him, gave him hugs and kisses, and went on a car ride with him. Since I last saw him hanging out in different places around the house, whether napping, waiting for food, watching the world go by, or looking for some company. Since I last told him I loved him. Since I last gave him some comfort even while I was breaking down in his final few moments.
It’s hard to believe that much time has already passed. Sometimes it seems like yesterday and other times it seems like lifetimes ago. Just as it seemed like Sawyer had always been here after he came home, it now occasionally seems like he was never here. It’s so strange how time and memories work.
Thus far, the pain was definitely the worst right after Sawyer’s death. It took months of spending lots of time alone and whole days crying on the couch before I started feeling like myself again. Holidays and my first birthday without Sawyer in over a decade were extra painful, whether they happened after his death last year or this year. He was here last year for several holidays I love (such as Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day, and Easter), meaning that I didn’t have to face those holidays without him until this year. As expected, they were all painful to some degree.
I had extra emotional and physical pain in the days leading up to the one-year mark since Sawyer’s death. The worst physical pain was a headache that lasted most of this past Sunday. It persisted for much of the afternoon and a bit of the evening despite several things I did physically and emotionally in the hope of getting rid of it. I’m glad that I took good enough care of myself that I could enjoy going out and having nice interactions with folks I know that night. The headache did eventually go away shortly before bed, and I slept well that night before waking up feeling refreshed on Monday morning.
By far the worst emotional pain occurred today. On my long drive back home from what turned out to be a long and tiring day, I cried hard while singing some sad songs and missing Sawyer. Those tears were long overdue and made me feel much better after they ran their course. It’s interesting how some days I cry effortlessly and other days I can’t cry at all, no matter how much I attempt to do so. I feel thankful for today’s tears.
One huge advantage I had today that I didn’t have the day Sawyer died was a year’s worth of working through the pain of losing him. Last week, I wrote about the extra letting go I’d been doing this month to prepare. Given how difficult today was even with all that preparation, I shudder to think about how much more difficult it would have been without it. Some big emotions did knock me down during that time. Just like last year, I always managed to get up, dust myself off, and carry on. This time around, that process took way less time than it did in 2022. Even my most difficult days this month were incredibly easy compared to last April.
I let go of a ton of pain years before Sawyer’s death, during our final months together, and in the year since our final goodbye. All the letting go I did allowed me to survive losing Sawyer. If I was still holding onto a lot of pain from 2020 and earlier, I doubt I’d have made it through last year. Knowing that overwhelming grief can lead to death, I can safely say that I have healed enough to no longer be at risk of dying from a broken heart. That said, I’m still letting go of pain around Sawyer’s death, especially from those first few hours after our final goodbye. It’s much easier to face and release that pain now than it was a year ago. Additionally, in contrast to what several people have told me, although the pain was still great today, it was nowhere near as big or intense as it was on this day last year. If that’s true after a year, then imagine how it’ll be after several years of consistently working through it.
I don’t believe that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” That said, I do believe that working through so much pain, both around Sawyer’s death and around other issues, has given me extra strength and ability. Losing Sawyer forced me to confront a lot of old pain that was exacerbating the pain of his death. Working through as much as I have over the past year has done wonders for me. I’m better able to set and maintain appropriate boundaries in a kind way, especially when I’m doing a lot of consistent letting go. My interactions with others go much more smoothly and often feel effortless. Anxiety and anger are essentially absent when I’m around other humans. I look forward to seeing how much more things will improve as I continue healing from all kinds of pain.
This concludes the hardest year of my life. I feel so thankful that, for the most part, the rest of 2022 was gentle on me; the same is true thus far for 2023. Some other incredibly painful years kept knocking me down, kicking me while I was down, and preventing me from getting fully settled on my feet before knocking me down once again. In contrast, the pain I experienced in 2022 was mostly the monumental pain of Sawyer’s death. Even the painful moments later in the year paled in comparison to losing Sawyer. Having found an incredible way to heal and keep going despite overwhelming pain, I hope I keep using it to overcome whatever I encounter over the rest of my days.