I’m experiencing immense grief again. The first time was after losing my sweet mama in 2018. This time is from losing my sweet dog, Titan. Titan passed away in late December, just a few weeks before his 13^th birthday.

I know the grief process well… perhaps too well, in fact.  I say that because I lived by myself, in the same house I lived in with my mom, for more than a year after she passed. I had no family or friends nearby, so I didn’t have much in the way of support or distractions. Titan was there with me at times, but he was my ex’s dog, initially. I wouldn’t have him full-time, until 2019.

Thus, I had little choice but to sit alone with the immense discomfort that grief brings, after my mom passed. The anxiety, guilt and sadness enveloped me. The eerie silence, especially at night, constantly reminded me my mom wasn’t there. Memories and flashbacks of my mom’s suffering were never far away.

I know there are people who are quick to trivialize the grief of losing a pet, but I know firsthand, those people are full of shit. In fact, in some ways, losing Titan has been harder than losing my mom.

Unlike when my mama passed, I was there when Titan passed and it was, unfortunately, traumatizing. Titan was diagnosed with bone cancer in late October of last year, so his time was short from then on. He had an unexpected medical emergency in December, though. He had a seizure and collapsed in my arms in my living room.

I didn’t know what was happening. I thought he was choking. And he looked so scared when having the seizure. For days after, images of his panicked face and him shaking would play on repeat in my mind, especially when I was in bed trying to sleep. I know I was at an acute point for me, since I never experienced anything like that before. Fortunately, a medication prescribed by my doctor helped me find sleep again.

Being awake is the harder part for me, currently. I didn’t just lose my companion. I lost my best friend. Titan lifted me up and made me laugh every day. Having light moments and joy have been crucial for me being able to TRY and build a life for myself, after the LONG ordeal with my mom. In helping me deal with low-level depression, Titan was indeed my emotional support dog. That support has been ripped away from me.

Immediately after his passing, I realized how alone I am and how little I have here in the Bay, even after living here for close to 30 years. I don’t own a home. I don’t have much in the way of financial savings. I don’t have a lot of “good friends.” I just turned 50 and am single with no kids. What has kept me here this long? Aside from my job, it has largely been Titan, I’m realizing.  The apartment I live in was the only place Titan knew since he was a puppy. I don’t remember much about having a life without him, frankly.

The routine and structure of taking care of my dog, walking and hiking with my dog, planning my vacations and trips with my dog, monitoring and managing a dog that loved food too much, could get triggered by other dogs and was stubborn as pit bulls can be at times—That’s all gone. Usually, at this point in the year, I’m booking camping reservations for me and Titan. I stopped booking them for myself, after I realized it’s going to be quite hard doing that without him.

With losing Titan, I’ve also lost one of the strongest connections I had with my mama. Titan spent more time with me and my mom, when we were living together, more than ANY human did. In this way, it’s a bit like losing my mom again too. That’s probably why, after Titan passed, I was having regular impulses to call my mom on the phone. I haven’t had any urge to do that in several years. My mind was showing me the grief of losing my mom AND Titan were entangled.

Grief is complicated and a real mother fucker, to be blunt.  I’m doing OK, but know I need a reset. I need time to figure out what I’m going to do with my life now. And yes, maybe someday I’ll get another dog. But Titan was truly one of a kind. He was sweet, smart, sensitive and showed me how to enjoy life more by being in the moment more.

Titan, also, brought out my very playful, sweet and loving sides. His unconditional love, I would say, made that possible. I hope to someday to be able to share those sides with the people I care about. For now, in my grief stricken state, I’m just finding comfort in knowing that Titan knew how much I loved him and that he was acting pretty much normally his last 45 minutes of his life in this world and with me.