Holding Space for Others
What my dog Sadie taught me about showing up for grieving loved ones
Dear Friends-
In 2011, I was single and content. I was working for President Barack Obama, I owned my home in DC, and was surrounded by a great group of friends. I thought I was living the life, but my childhood best friend disagreed. I hadn’t been on a date in six months, and one night she basically declared me a loser.
When I broke my arm on Christmas that year, she took it as an opportunity for some mischief. I could either recover in my dad’s depressing, freezing cold house (the man doesn’t believe in heat, just putting on more clothes) where my mom had died a few years before, or I could spend the week with my friend and her mother by the fireplace enjoying homemade cookies and candy. The choice was obvious. Except there was a catch: I had to let my friend make me an online dating profile. It was time for me to meet a man, officially. High on percocet, I agreed, my only suggestion was that we try to find a guy with a dog.
After she put me on eHarmony, I met with exactly one person. We went on our first date in January of 2012. By February “I love yous” were exchanged and in August he’d moved into my pink-painted junior one-bedroom in the heart of DC. As fall and winter rolled around, Matt was making plans to find us that dog. She became ours on January 19, 2013, exactly one year after we first met.
She was a rescue named Tammy, found on the side of the road in rural South Carolina. We renamed her Sadie, but Tammy stuck as her alter ego for when she occasionally misbehaved. After a rocky start (clearly jealous of my long hours spent working for President Obama) she chewed up only things that belonged to me: camo hat, slippers, headphones, a pink patent leather belt. Yet, Sadie was still pretty perfect–obedient, quiet, gentle, friendly, fun, and unbelievably loyal.
Sadie has been with Matt and I for almost our entire relationship and this week we, Bennett included, said goodbye to her. A few days before Thanksgiving we learned she had an aggressive form of cancer. Given her age, about fourteen, and that the nature of her disease meant she could only be treated, not cured, we decided it did not make sense to pursue treatment, opting instead for palliative care. Over the weekend, she deteriorated and, realizing it was up to us to end her suffering, we made plans to do just that.
Our hearts are shattered and we are working hard to “hold both” this holiday season as we navigate the grief of Sadie's loss amidst the joy of Christmas. What I realized just before she died is that one of the many gifts Sadie has given to me is a new way of thinking about the power of showing up and holding space for one another. In our twelve years with Sadie, she saw us through the normal ups and downs of marriage and through tremendous moments of grief. IVF attempts, pregnancy loss, adoption hurdles, the pandemic, the loss of Matt’s mom and my cousins and grandfather, and more recently Long COVID. Through it all, she has been fully present by our side.
Our pets don’t run from or avoid grief, they run toward it. How many times in the last two weeks since learning of her illness and imminent passing, has Sadie rushed to comfort us? To literally lick away our tears? There were nights when I anxiously googled information about pregnancy and adoption and feared we’d never have a child. Sadie would come lay by my feet or snuggle up next to me, a solid and furry reminder that all would indeed work out. And when it did, it was Sadie who sat with whoever was on 2am duty with a screaming newborn who refused to go back to sleep. Every time one of us has had COVID she’s quarantined by our side. These last few months of Long COVID would have been so lonely and miserable without her snuggled up next to me. I am reminded in her passing that holding space isn't about doing anything at all; it is simply about being present with your pain or the pain of someone else.
We need others to acknowledge our pain and complex feelings in order to facilitate our healing. Showing up for another can truly be the greatest gift, and while it comes naturally to animals, for humans it’s often a learned behavior and value. So here are some tips, backed by research and practiced by Sadie until the very end.
Presence: When we lost our pregnancy in 2019, in addition to Sadie’s love and care, we were surrounded by friends. That very night a crew came over with cookie dough, bourbon, and Chinese food. We watched American Ninja Warrior (a hilarious distraction) and didn’t even mention what had just happened because I wasn’t ready. Their presence was a reminder of how much they loved and cared for us, and it was more than enough.
Silence: I wrote in my book and say all the time to others, “there is nothing perfect or really useful to say when someone first loses a loved one because the worst thing has just happened to them and nothing you say is going to fix that.” Because of the way that Grief Brain works (it’s a very real thing) a grieving person may not even remember what you said. Sadie was not a talking dog (ha!) but she was a great source of support nonetheless, proving that you do not need to say anything to be a source of love, compassion, and support for someone you love. Sometimes, just bearing witness to someone else’s pain can be essential for their healing.
Non-Judgement: Grief often comes with a lot of guilt, especially as people continue to progress in their journey with it. We feel guilty for how sad we still are. We feel guilty for how much or how little our grief has changed. We feel guilty because we feel as though we are letting down others in our life (true or not). You know who never made me feel guilty? Sadie. Please do not judge your grieving loved ones, because chances are, they’re already judging themselves in some capacity. Instead, give them the space and love they need to process and heal from their loss.
Joy: You know I have to include joy in the list! As Matt carried Sadie’s lifeless body out of our home and into the vet’s car earlier this week, her mouth flopped open into a smile and we both laughed. When we lose loved ones, we often need others to help facilitate joy for us. Sadie gave us joy until the very end.
Lastly, due to her lack of opposing thumbs and human intelligence, one more thing I recommend that Sadie could not do is this: do something practical to make life easier for someone who is hurting. If you can’t be there physically and joy-making is not your thing, consider ordering groceries, sending a GrubHub gift card, watching their kid, or taking a work assignment off of their plate.
Everything about grief is hard so please, be a Sadie for someone else this holiday season and beyond.
xxMarisa
A fitting essay for the world’s goodest girl
Beautiful essay, Marisa ❤️ Sadie was a fantastic teacher, like both of her parents