“The truth is you will mourn eternally. You will not ‘move on’ from the absence of a beloved; you will find a way to coexist with it.” ~Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
My friend Diana’s WhatsApp profile image is a picture of her embracing her dog, Zibby.
Whenever her name pops up on my device, there they are. The two of them captured in a small square. I’ve glanced at that image so often I stopped truly seeing it.
Until recently.
Zibby wasn’t merely a dog. She was woven into the fabric of their lives, the mornings, the evenings, and all the mundane moments in between that no one thinks to cherish until they are missing.
The Story of Zibby’s Arrival
Diana’s husband dedicated his career to oil and gas. Their job took them far away, first to China, then to Thailand, living a life where you’re constantly adapting to a new city, a new grocery store, a new routine. They adopted Zibby while in China, although it almost didn’t turn out the way it did.
Nicole, their daughter, had her heart set on a golden doodle. She knew just what she wanted. But then they visited the shelter, and she spotted this little beagle, and that was the end of the golden doodle discussion. It became Zibby. No going back.
She was quite the handful. Mischievous, pampered, and entirely disinterested in obeying commands. She got into food she shouldn’t have touched. She tore apart toilet paper for fun. She would wander into rooms she was forbidden to enter and gaze at you as if you were the intruder. Diana corrected her time and again. Zibby consistently brushed her off, every single time, without a hint of remorse.
I came to know Zibby the way one comes to know a neighbor’s dog—in fragments over time. Diana and I reside in the same subdivision, and we would encounter each other during walks. There was Zibby, nose to the ground, tugging toward whatever scent piqued her interest, ears flopping, utterly absorbed in her own agenda. She had a knack for making you smile effortlessly.
My daughter and I watched her a few times when Diana and her husband took day trips to a nearby city to visit Nicole at college. We’d drop by, refill her bowl, take her outside, and keep her company for a bit. A minor favor. The type you don’t think twice about. I didn’t realize at the time how much I would reflect on those afternoons later.
When Diana’s family returned to the States permanently, Zibby accompanied them and adapted immediately, as if she had always known this would be their destination. She aged. Grew a little slower. Still as headstrong as ever. Still finding you when she wanted something, right in the midst of whatever you were doing.
You never think you’ll miss the little things. The sound of her nails on the floor. The way she would settle next to you. The specific chaos of her simply being present. And then the house falls silent, and you realize that was the essence of it all.
When Sorrow Accumulates
Diana lost her father about a year prior to Zibby’s passing.
Completely different losses, yet grief doesn’t categorize neatly. It just piles up. One loss lies beside another, and suddenly you’re carrying more than you recognized, more than you ever disclosed to anyone.
Zibby was a stable element throughout that year. The walks were necessary. The feeding, the vet appointments, the everyday responsibilities of caring for a dog who depended on you. That kind of routine is undervalued while grappling with grief. It motivates you. It gets you outside. It prevents the day from collapsing in on itself. And then Zibby was gone, and all of that disappeared with her.
We strolled together one morning not long afterward. Our subdivision was serene, the air pleasantly cool, that particular stillness preceding the start of everyone else’s day. We chatted for a time and then fell silent.
She halted walking.
Her eyes welled with tears.
“People we care about pass away,” she said. “We feel sorrow. But what can we do? Life continues. That’s simply how life is.”
She wasn’t dismissing it. She wasn’t pretending everything was fine. She expressed it the way you would something you’ve contemplated so often it’s become smooth. Like a stone you’ve held onto for so long that it no longer has any sharp edges.
I didn’t contribute much. There was nothing to add.
What I Already Understood
I lost my own father a few years back.
I’m not the sort to visibly break down or easily discuss difficult matters. But I think of him daily. Truly, every single day. Sometimes it’s a memory. Occasionally, it’s just a feeling. Quite often, it’s a phrase I hear myself say and then recognize as his, something I’ve absorbed over fifty-something years without realizing it was happening.
That’s the aspect of grief that sneaks up on you. It doesn’t truly conclude. It simply becomes quieter. It ceases to be the solitary presence in the room and transitions into something you carry in your pocket. You forget it’s there occasionally. And then something trivial occurs, a song, a scent, a dog during a morning stroll, and there it is once more.
By the time you reach your fifties, you understand that loss doesn’t happen just once. It accumulates. A parent. A friend. A pet. Some version of your life you didn’t get the opportunity to bid a proper farewell. You stop anticipating feeling prepared because readiness doesn’t arrive. You simply move forward, and at some point, you realize you’ve been handling it all along without anyone acknowledging it.
Most people are unaware of what the person next to them is silently bearing.
The Way Things Resurface
Life began to adjust after Zibby, slowly and without announcement.
Nicole completed school and returned home, securing a job close by. The house that had fallen so silent was filled with people again. Diana’s husband had retired. The two of them returned to the tiny rhythms of daily life, cooking, tidying, the mundane details that end up being the substance of everything. None of it revolved around the dog. Yet somehow, it was all interconnected.
Grief doesn’t vanish. What it does is transform. It begins to feel less like an absence and more like a presence. You’re out on your morning walk, and someone’s dog dashes past, and for just a fleeting moment, there’s Zibby, nose exploring, entirely in her world. It still surprises you. But it also signifies something. Love doesn’t disappear when someone passes away. It simply changes its location.
When Diana reminisces about Zibby now, she revisits everything—China, Thailand, years spent building a life in foreign places, this small beagle at the heart of it all no matter where they were. Missing her isn’t evidence of something lost. It’s evidence of something genuine. Something that mattered enough to leave a trace.
What I Understand Now
If you’re experiencing it now, mourning a person, an animal, or a chapter of your life that closed unexpectedly, here is what I’ve discerned by going through it.
Don’t rush to get to the other side before you’re ready.
Grief doesn’t yield to pressure. It arrives when it desires, in a photo on your device, in a behavior you didn’t realize you’d adopted, on an ordinary Tuesday without specific reason. You can’t escape it. You might as well allow it to come.
Speak the names. Share the tales.
This isn’t indulgence. It’s simply what love does when it no longer has a clear place to go. Keeping the stories alive keeps the individuals alive, at least in the ways that continue to matter.
Focus on the minute details rather than the major memories.
The particular silly moments. The way Zibby treated rules as if they were merely suggestions. The exact way my father laughed at something he genuinely found amusing. Those minor details are what make an absence feel occupied. They remind you it was a genuine life, not merely a loss.
Let routine support you.
When you lack the motivation to do anything, the small ordinary tasks—a walk, a meal, the familiar pattern of a typical day—will carry you farther than you’d anticipate. Not because they resolve anything. But because they help you remain functional while you regain your stability.
And have faith that life does return.
Different than before, yes. But not diminished. There’s space for grief and space for joy as well. It turns out that’s true even when it feels entirely implausible.
What Remains the Same
Diana’s WhatsApp image is still unchanged.
Each message from her momentarily brings Zibby back. Those ears. That face. That absolute determination to be nothing but herself. I’m thankful the image is still there. Time marches on regardless, but the people and animals we cherish linger in the narratives we continue to share, in the names we speak aloud, in the small aspects of ourselves we unknowingly carry forward.
Grief starts as a void. Somewhere along the path, it shapes into how you hold on.
We persevere simply because we must. Because life, as Diana remarked on that tranquil morning in our community, just carries on. And in holding onto everyone we have loved and lost, we become, without realizing it, a little more of who we truly are.
What loss are you still bearing that the world has moved on from too swiftly?
**Names have been modified to ensure privacy.
About B.R. Shenoy
A writer and blogger on Medium and Substack, B.R. Shenoy delves into nature, parenting, travel, and culture, often through her personal photography. Married and the mother of two young adults, she intertwines personal experience into reflections on family, life, and the surrounding world.
**The Subtle and Surprising Ways Grief Persists in Our Lives**
Grief is commonly viewed as a sequential journey, characterized by stages that one must traverse following a significant loss. However, the reality of grief is considerably more intricate and varied. It can linger in unforeseen ways, appearing long after the initial shock subsides. Recognizing these subtle and surprising facets of grief can aid individuals in acknowledging and managing their emotions more adeptly.
**1. Emotional Triggers**
One of the most covert ways grief endures is through emotional triggers. Specific locations, songs, or even aromas can conjure vivid memories associated with the lost loved one. These triggers may prompt sudden floods of sorrow or nostalgia, catching individuals unprepared. Identifying these triggers can assist individuals in anticipating and processing their emotions when they surface.
**2. Physical Symptoms**
Grief is not just an emotional ordeal; it can also manifest physically. Individuals may face fatigue, headaches, or stomach issues as a consequence of their grief. The body frequently retains emotional distress, leading to chronic stress responses that can impact overall well-being. Recognizing these physical manifestations as components of the grieving process is vital for comprehensive healing.
**3. Changes in Relationships**
Grief can modify relationship dynamics. Friends and family might struggle with how to support someone in mourning, resulting in feelings of seclusion. On the other hand, some individuals may discover comfort in unexpected sources, forming deeper bonds with those who have encountered similar losses. Acknowledging that relationships may evolve during this period can help individuals navigate their social environments.
**4. Identity and Purpose**
The loss of a loved one can prompt a profound reassessment of one’s identity and sense of purpose. Individuals may grapple with their self-concept, especially if the deceased played a considerable role in their lives. This existential inquiry can persist long after the immediate loss, pushing individuals to seek new meanings and paths in life.
**5. Anniversaries and Milestones**
Anniversaries of the loss, birthdays, and holidays can serve as powerful reminders of grief. These occasions may evoke a resurgence of feelings, often resulting in anticipatory grief as individuals prepare for the emotional weight. Getting ready for these moments and establishing new customs can help lessen the intensity of these sentiments.
**6. Guilt and Regret**
Feelings of guilt and regret frequently accompany grief, particularly if unresolved matters or unexpressed emotions linger at the time of the loss. This internal conflict can persist for years, leading individuals to mentally replay scenarios. Acknowledging these feelings and pursuing forgiveness, whether from oneself or the deceased, can be a crucial step in the healing journey.
**7. The Role of Memory**
Grief can also surface through the memories we cling to. While some memories may offer solace, others can stir sadness. The manner in which individuals choose to remember their loved ones can shape their grief experience. Creating memorials, sharing narratives, or partaking in activities that honor the deceased can assist in transforming painful memories into treasured legacies.
**8. Unpredictable Waves of Grief**
Grief is often likened to a wave that rises and recedes. Individuals may find their grief surfacing unexpectedly, even years after the loss. These instances can feel disorienting, leading to the misconception that one has not progressed. Recognizing that grief can be cyclical enables individuals to embrace their emotions without judgment.
**Conclusion**
Grief is an intensely personal and multifaceted experience that can linger in subtle and surprising ways. By being aware of the varying manifestations of grief, individuals can more adeptly navigate their emotional terrain and discover pathways to healing. Accepting the intricacy of grief fosters a more compassionate understanding of oneself and others undergoing similar journeys.
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