Staying Present with Our Pets in the Space Between Love and Loss

A reflection on anticipatory grief, presence, and the love that keeps us grounded before goodbye

Tomorrow, I’m co-hosting the Compassionate Paws Gathering, a free event that’s deeply meaningful to me. It’s the first event since creating the Compassionate Paws group, a community where we share love, remembrance, and support through pet loss and grief. This weekend’s gathering will be held virtually, open to all who wish to join. You’ll find the Zoom link and event details in the Facebook group, where we’ll also be streaming it live. We’ve shaped the gathering to feel welcoming and genuine, open to everyone who wants to come together in remembrance.

As I’ve been preparing this week, I’ve found myself reflecting on the animals I’ve lost this past year and before, how grief changes shape over time but never fully fades. It softens and settles into something quieter, something that feels like love remembering itself.

This weekend begins with Halloween and Samhain, followed by All Souls and Día de los Muertos, a time when the veil is thinner, when I often sense those I’ve loved and lost, a little closer. Across cultures and traditions, this season reminds us that remembrance is universal; no matter what we believe or where we come from, love and loss are threads we all share. That’s part of why these memories are rising now, asking to be acknowledged and honored.

When Maisy unexpectedly passed on Mother’s Day earlier this year, it left a space I still don’t quite know how to describe. She was sassy and sweet, endlessly talkative, always full of opinion and warmth. At night she slept pressed against my right shoulder, while my senior Chihuahua, Cooper, curled up close on my left. Her absence on one side made me all the more aware of his presence on the other. At the time, I was caught somewhere between processing the shock of her loss and the rising worry about what might come next. That mix of lingering trauma and anticipatory grief was my heart’s way of trying to protect itself.

Cooper’s around thirteen now, maybe older. He’s starting to slow down, a little off balance some days, sometimes staring off like he’s remembering something I can’t see. Nothing dramatic, just age making itself known in small, quiet ways. Losing Maisy opened a door I wasn’t ready to look through, and suddenly I found myself watching him too closely, searching for signs of what might come next.

But that kind of fear steals time. It pulls me away from what’s still right here. His warm breath on my arm, his excitement when I grab my keys, his head leaning into my chest when I carry him up the stairs. These are the things I can hold now. So instead of bracing for goodbye, I try to meet him where he is. We go for slower walks. He comes with me to the feed store or to get the mail, little one-on-one trips that make him light up. These small things help me stay in the moment, where love actually lives.

I’ve been here before. When Jolie, my cat from years ago, was declining from hyperthyroid disease, the thought of losing her felt unbearable. Back then, I didn’t know how to hold both love and loss at once. I tried to outrun it, distract myself, pretend I could keep it from happening. But all that fear and avoidance cost me time. I lost moments I could have spent simply being with her.

Now I understand that anticipatory grief isn’t something to avoid or fix. It’s love trying to prepare us. It’s the heart’s way of rehearsing goodbye while still learning to stay open. But we don’t have to live in that place. We can notice it, breathe through it, and come back to the present-to the walks, the cuddles, the everyday magic that’s still unfolding.

I know I can’t stop the seasons from changing or the bodies I love from aging. What I can do is meet them with gratitude, with attention, with gentleness. That’s what Maisy, Cooper, and even Jolie have taught me, that love asks us to be here for all of it.

Whether you’re walking through the space of anticipatory grief, missing an animal who’s already crossed, or finding yourself somewhere in between, waiting, loving, fearing, remembering, I hope you’ll join us tomorrow for the Compassionate Paws Gathering. We’ll share stories and ways to honor and celebrate your animals in your own home, and together we’ll remember the ones who’ve crossed and the ones who are still here. This is a completely free event—no sales pitch, just a community of people coming together to honor the animals they love and celebrate their lives. Bring a candle, a stick of incense, or something that reminds you of your pet (like a favorite toy, collar, or treat) if you’d like, and if you’re unsure whether this event is right for you, feel free to reach out. I’m happy to answer any questions.

Love doesn’t end when they go. It changes form, but it stays.
And so do we.

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Thank you so much for reading this post!

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November 2, I’ll be co-hosting a Compassionate Paws Remembrance Gathering. for pet loss and grief inside my Compassionate Paws Facebook group. All details and the private Zoom link will be shared there, free to join, no sales, just community and connection. Please join us inside the Compassionate Paws Facebook group.

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My name is Melissa, and I’m an animal communicator, energy healer, and holistic pet health coach. I live on a little farm in the woods where I’m happily outnumbered by animals: seven dogs, three cats, and a mix of other furry, feathered, and hooved friends who keep life interesting. You can learn more about my work at calmingcreek.com

I’d love to hear from you! Whether you have stories to share or questions to ask, don’t hesitate to join the conversation in the comments section below.

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Disclaimer: The information shared in this blog is for educational and informational purposes only. I am not a veterinarian, and my services are intended as a complementary practice to support your pet’s overall well-being. They are not a substitute for professional veterinary care, diagnosis, or treatment. Always consult your veterinarian regarding any medical concerns, conditions, or treatments your pet may require.