08/28/2026
I have been in the room. I have held the space. Here is what I know.
I know that the last moment is never really about the moment itself. It is about every walk before it, every meal shared, every quiet evening on the couch that no one thought to count at the time. By the time I arrive, that whole life is already there in the room with us.
I know that families almost always apologize to me for crying. You do not have to. I have never once seen love like that and thought it was too much π
I know that saying goodbye at home does not make it easy, but it makes it gentler. There is no fluorescent light, no waiting room, no strangers. Just the people who loved them most, in the place where that love actually lived.
And I know that grief does not end when the appointment does. It just changes shape. It becomes the leash you cannot bring yourself to move. The bowl you set down out of habit. The quiet that used to be filled with the sound of them.
π Today is Rainbow Bridge Remembrance Day, and I am thinking of every family I have had the privilege of sitting with.
I am thinking of every name I still remember, and every one I will carry with me long after this work is done.
If you are remembering a pet today, I would love to know their name. Tell me below. I will read every single one.