Honoring the Grief of Animal Loss Through Connection

A personal story of how animal communication led me to finally acknowledge and express the grief I had buried from so much animal loss throughout my life.

It began with dying animals.

First one here and there, and soon, every single one of my animal communication sessions was an end-of-life situation. Each animal was unique, but they all had something in common: The end was near, and their people wanted to know how to support them.

How were the animals feeling? What did they need? Were they ready to leave their bodies? Did they want assistance in doing so? Would it be possible to have a relationship with them in spirit?

“This must be what I’m meant to do,” I kept thinking.

I was honored to do this sacred work—to relay the animals’ needs, desires, and messages of support and comfort to their people. But after a little while, something strange started happening.

Finding What Was Buried

I began to feel fatigue that I couldn’t overcome with sleep—a weight that I couldn’t lift. A deep well of sadness and a never-ending sense of loss. I had gotten to know that feeling well when a dear friend died a few years back: It was grief.

But it was much more than the sympathetic grief I often felt for my clients, who were saying goodbye to their animals in physical form. As I sat on the couch, cuddling my dogs Milo and Lucy, it hit me: I was grieving for all of the animals I had lost in my life.

I was grieving for Tippy, our first dog. The black-and-white pup ran away from our house on Bevier Street when I was a little girl. We spent days looking for her, but we never found her, and she never came back.

The only photo I have of our dog Omer.

I was grieving for Spike, our beloved family guinea pig who died of a fast-acting virus despite our best efforts, which included a trip to the emergency vet on a Sunday night (I think it was also Christmas Eve). My dad and sister had the chance to say goodbye before the vet helped him leave his body, but I didn’t.

And I was grieving for Omer, our fluffy Keeshond mix who bit the face of the little girl next door when she was visiting for dinner. She was waving a hot dog around and calling his name, and suddenly there were screams and blood, and I was running to the neighbors for help.

Someone took Omer away, and my parents told us later that night that they had no choice but to euthanize him. I never got to say goodbye, and our poor neighbor’s injury made expressing my grief even more complicated.

And there were more: Squiggles the snake, Butterscotch the hamster, Peter the rabbit and his siblings, Buddy the crab, and several named and unnamed fish. I had lost a lot of animals in my life, many of them in traumatic ways. In some cases, I never had a chance to say goodbye, and in most cases, I didn’t really process my grief—I just buried it.

But grief is something we can’t escape. No matter how far we push it into the depths of our souls, it’ll creep back up, begging to be brought to light. My animal communication work is what finally brought to the surface the grief I had deeply buried long ago. Witnessing and acknowledging others’ grief around losing their animal companions required me to do the same for my own—to finally allow myself to feel it and move through it.

Remembering Our Connection

As I thought about each animal I had lost, I wailed like a child from the depths of my soul. I cried so hard that I couldn’t catch my breath or stop the boogers and tears from flowing down my face. My head was burning and my eyes were puffy and stinging. I felt like the little girl within me had been waiting for this release for a long time.

As I cried, I thought about how I could honor each of the animals I was grieving. My inner child spoke up: “Why don’t you just draw something?”

With her guidance, I took out my colored pencils and wrote each animal’s name on a piece of paper, then I decorated it with rainbow designs.

Then my mind turned to all of the animals I’ve connected with in spirit on my animal communication journey. I thought about how they’ve reminded their people that although they may have lost them in physical form, they hadn’t truly lost them. That they could continue a relationship with them in spirit.

Remembering this, I decided I would hold a ceremony to honor, remember, and communicate with each one of the animals I had lost. I was anxious and excited to find out what they had to say.

Receiving Their Messages

For each animal, I lit a candle and took a few minutes to tell them what I appreciated about them and listened to what they had to tell me. I wrote down everything I could.

Tippy let me know that she loved us very much, but she didn’t want to come home. She just wanted to run free. She told me that she was eventually hit by a car, but she was happy to die feeling that freedom. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s all okay.” I could feel that she had that same sense of freedom and happiness in spirit, too.

When I connected with Spike, I felt so much warmth and love from him. He knew how much my family loved him, and he felt the same about us. “Thanks for everything,” he said, “and for helping to make my death a little more peaceful.”

When I connected with Omer I felt his fluffy body cuddling up to mine. “It’s okay,” he said. “They did what they had to do. You couldn’t stop it.”

He let me know that he didn’t mean to hurt the neighbor girl so badly, but he knew that we forgave him for it. Then, I saw him turn into a majestic wolf. He let me know that he was free to be fully himself in spirit. His energy felt so powerful, wild, and calm at the same time.

There was a lot more to the ceremony—too much to write here. But what’s important to convey is that each animal had messages of love for me, no matter the circumstances surrounding their deaths. They didn’t express one bit of scolding or shaming. They didn’t wish that anything had been different. They accepted everything for what it was (even though it felt so unfair to me).

And when I expressed sorrow for not being able to say goodbye, they each answered by saying, in their own way, that I didn’t need to say goodbye because they had been with me all along.

I had already heard many of these sentiments echoed among all of the clients’ animals I’ve connected with in spirit, but there was something especially profound about hearing it all from my own animal companions that had died.

Embracing Grief

What I continue to learn from my own experiences and my work as an animal communicator is that grief is not something to be fixed. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it can’t be escaped, ignored, bottled up, or pushed away without resurfacing again.

Grief, as painful as it can be, is a natural part of living and loving others.

Although nothing can make the pain disappear completely, it can be alchemized through honoring and expressing it, as well as through connection with both the spirits of those we grieve and our living beloveds.

If you’d like to book a session to communicate with a departed animal companion and receive grief support from someone who gets it, you can do that here.