First He Took My Son, Now the Dogs

Sharing my substack post here about love, loss, reinvention & the courage it takes to begin again after divorce.

First he took my son.

Now, years later, the dogs.

My heart shifts again. Not a breaking but a quiet rupture. A finality I wasn’t prepared for.

Grief, again.

After the separation, I kept showing up. For my ex. For my son. I pleaded & begged.

It took years to eventually reconcile.

Now years later, to ease my son's burden as he cared for his father’s declining health, I stepped in. I helped with their two big dogs. I raised the puppy while their house was renovated. Walked them. Fed them. Loved them. Not out of obligation but because they were family. They were our soft landing.

A chance for us all to reconnect, gently & with love.

For a while, I told myself I was doing it for my son. For all of us. That I was helping. That I was staying close.

But now, I see the pattern I stayed...while pieces of my heart were slowly taken.

Just like the sudden marriage breakdown & alienation from my son.

The dogs were ripped away.

This past weekend was the first without them. No muddy paws. No wagging tails. No familiar weight curled beside me.

No calls or check-ins from my son or ex. Just silence. And the ache of being erased.

Juxtaposed with flowers from my daughter & love from my friends.

This grief isn’t just about losing pets. It’s about what they represent:

Connection. Loyalty. Continuity.

I share this because I know others feel it too: the invisible heartbreaks after divorce, the quiet cost of being the one who stays soft, the way we are expected to keep giving, even when we are bleeding out.

This is me choosing not to bleed quietly anymore.

Have you ever had to walk away from something you loved?

I’d love to hear how you honoured yourself in that moment.