I have felt the love in these posts and with some of my Tripawds family checking in on me - thank you!  I am by no means fine, but I am doing better than I expected.  It was just Griffin and me, so the house feels very empty and quiet, and I have no one to talk to (Griffin was a great listener!).  I made a promise to Griffin that I would not hole up in the house all day, so I've made it a point to get outside for a long walk each day, even if it is just to run errands.  The biggest struggle for me is time on my hands and lack of routine.  I'm working very few part-time hours right now, and until I find a full-time job, being home alone all day sucks.  I'll be attending a virtual orientation session on Thursday to volunteer with a local dog rescue.  I'm not at all ready to foster, but I do have a car to help with transport (rare in NYC!) and I'm pretty good with administrative tasks, so hopefully having something meaningful to do will add structure to my days.  My neighbors are amazing at checking in (and feeding me!) and one of my best friends is coming next weekend to stay for a week, so I'm in good hands.  Please keep the happy memories/stories of Griffin coming - they really do make my heart smile.

It has been one month since I said goodbye to Griffin.  The sharp sting of grief has mellowed to an ache that has burrowed deep into my bones.  I still look before moving the ottoman.  I still catch myself automatically soothing, “You’re okay” when I hear a car backfire outside.  I still feel disoriented when I wake up without a solid warmth snugged up against my side.  My days feel adrift without our routine and the house is so very quiet.  I miss Griffin tremendously and I expect that I always will.

From Griffin’s diagnosis to his surgery through five different chemotherapy protocols to the very end, I was grieving.  Not every day and not all the time, but the anticipatory grief of losing him was pretty consistent and every oncology appointment that never resulted in good news brought me low again.  Each time I cycled through denial, anger, bargaining, and depression a little quicker, trying desperately to stay in a positive mindset knowing there would be plenty of time for tears later.  And now it is time for me to practice acceptance.  My beloved boy is gone, and nothing will bring him back to me.

My very wise 14-year old niece shared this quote with me: “As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss” (Cassandra Clare).  One of the best things I did after Griffin passed was to ask everyone to share their favorite memories of him.  From family and friends, to colleagues at schools where Griffin accompanied me, to staff at the hospital that treated Griffin and the hospital where we volunteered, to my neighbors – over 100 people shared stories about Griffin.  I knew most of the stories, but the new ones were lovely surprises, as were some photos and videos that I had not previously seen.  Each story affirmed what I already knew – Griffin was an amazing soul who touched so very many people with his joy, his gentleness, his empathy, his silliness, and most of all, with his capacity for unconditional love.  Reading those shared memories is a balm to my aching heart and the document into which I have compiled them all will be a treasured legacy.

It has been one month since Griffin passed and while I feel sad every day, I am doing okay.  I go for daily walks in our favorite park.  I attended an individual therapy session and a pet loss support group meeting.  I started volunteering with a local dog rescue processing adoption applications and completed initial steps to become a volunteer with two other organizations.  I am steadily working through a list of spring cleaning tasks.  I have buckled down to find a full-time job.  I am reading a ton of books.

One of those books was The Beauty of What Remains: How Our Greatest Fear Becomes Our Greatest Gift by (Rabbi) Steve Leder.  He writes, “We lose so much love to death, and if that love was real and deep, the grief is real and deep.  Grief is not a race to be won or an illness to be cured.  To deny grief its due is to deny love.”  I am very lucky to have the support of so many and no one would question my need to grieve, but somehow reading that passage really made plain to me in a way that I did not fully understand before that love and grief go hand in hand, mirroring each other in their depths.  It is comforting to think that when my grieving is over, the beauty of our love will remain.

On a practical level, I know that how long or how much I grieve will not change the fact that Griffin is no longer by my side.  And so from a self-preservation perspective, I try to focus on gratitude rather than sadness.  I am grateful for so many things about how Griffin passed – that he did so peacefully at home, that he was not in pain or scared, and that it was so clearly his time to go.  I am grateful for the 11 years that I shared with Griffin, and considering we were rarely apart even when I was working, it probably adds up to far more time than most people get to spend with their pups.  I am grateful for Griffin's magic, as evident in the outpouring of stories, and that I lived in the presence of that magic up close each day.  I am grateful that Griffin inspired me to work towards a healthier lifestyle and made even the bitterly cold morning walks fun.  I am grateful for all that Griffin taught me – patience, kindness, being fully present, determination, curiosity, and finding joy every day.  Griffin truly was the sunshine of my life and I will love him forever.

One day I will create a video to celebrate all of Griffin’s life, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy these photos that each represent a year, from 2010-2021, that Griffin spread his sunshine to all of us.  Thank you all for the love and support that you gifted us throughout Griffin’s journey.  May his memory be a blessing.

I marked a few one year anniversaries recently: March 17th – Griffin’s osteosarcoma diagnosis, April 2nd – Griffin’s amputation surgery, and May 2nd – Griffin's first time as a tripawd walking to the end of our park route on his own.  He’s been gone 81 days and the moments when I smile at the thought of Griffin far outweigh the moments of sadness.  I still unexpectedly tear up when talking about him to strangers, but my heart is lighter and my new normal doesn’t feel quite so new any longer.

As I mentioned in my last post, I began volunteering with Rescue City, a NYC dog rescue organization.  I am on the adoptions team, processing applications.  I also began fostering with them and welcomed Nori the Airedale Terrier (mix?) into my home last weekend.  I’ll share her story in a separate thread.

I know I don’t post on Tripawds much but I do check in pretty much every day.  I know that once you join the Tripawds family, you are forever a member.  I will always be grateful for the support, friendship, and strength that I found here.  I truly hope that Griffin’s story is helpful to others and that his magic continues to pay it forward.