Hi Jen! Yes lots of changes on the horizon. Empty nesting is looming and I am really dreading it myself. I think it’s not only about missing our babies — but also trying figure out who we are after that part of motherhood is done. Thankfully I still have a sophomore — so another 3 years to go. It will go too fast. 🥲 As for Cooper — so sorry!! I always wondered how dogs coped when one of them goes. It’s truly heartbreaking for them to always be together and then suddenly not. 💔 Nice to connect and let’s get through senior year together!!
So many of us are navigating change, grief, children growing up, new chapters, and trying to figure out who we are becoming in the middle of it all. Reading your words made me feel a little less alone in that process.
Thank you, Teresa! I somehow missed this comment before. Yes, I’m going through all those changes you mentioned and am happy to find more of us to walk it together on Substack. 🤗🙌
Jen, one of the hardest realities of grief is that it often lives in routines long before it lives in memories. The absence appears in the peanut butter, the bedtime reminders, and the apples that no longer need to be shared. Those small rituals become part of a household's emotional architecture, which is why their disappearance can feel so disorienting. I was also struck by the connection you drew between losing Cooper and preparing for Cora's departure, because both require learning how to love someone through a change you cannot stop. Thank you for capturing so honestly how gratitude and sadness can occupy the same space and how grief quietly reshapes the ordinary moments of daily life.
Thank you, Reverend. You have a rare gift for empathizing with a stranger and making them feel seen and understood on a level that's deeper than from people who have met me several times.
Jen, your response points to something I have come to appreciate about good writing: when someone describes their experience honestly and specifically, readers often recognize pieces of their own story within it. I think that is part of why your essay resonated. Cooper was uniquely yours, yet the routines, the quiet absences, and the experience of loving someone through an unavoidable transition are deeply human experiences. Thank you for trusting readers with those ordinary, sacred details; they are often what help the rest of us feel seen too.
Hi Jen! Yes lots of changes on the horizon. Empty nesting is looming and I am really dreading it myself. I think it’s not only about missing our babies — but also trying figure out who we are after that part of motherhood is done. Thankfully I still have a sophomore — so another 3 years to go. It will go too fast. 🥲 As for Cooper — so sorry!! I always wondered how dogs coped when one of them goes. It’s truly heartbreaking for them to always be together and then suddenly not. 💔 Nice to connect and let’s get through senior year together!!
Thanks Jen! Yes she was so old and uncomfortable that she is in a better place now.🤗
So many of us are navigating change, grief, children growing up, new chapters, and trying to figure out who we are becoming in the middle of it all. Reading your words made me feel a little less alone in that process.
Thank you for sharing this!
Thank you, Teresa! I somehow missed this comment before. Yes, I’m going through all those changes you mentioned and am happy to find more of us to walk it together on Substack. 🤗🙌
I'm so sorry for your loss! The bond with a pet is unlike anything else 🤍
Thank you, Mariel!
Aww did he like apples?! So sweet. Sorry about Cooper. It's a heartbreak.
My chicken died a few days ago. She loved grapes and we used to complain that we never got to eat grapes because of her.
Those grapes are rotting now.
Oh Smita. I didn’t see this comment until now. I’m so sorry about your chicken! I hope the little one’s getting bigger are filling some of that void.
Jen, one of the hardest realities of grief is that it often lives in routines long before it lives in memories. The absence appears in the peanut butter, the bedtime reminders, and the apples that no longer need to be shared. Those small rituals become part of a household's emotional architecture, which is why their disappearance can feel so disorienting. I was also struck by the connection you drew between losing Cooper and preparing for Cora's departure, because both require learning how to love someone through a change you cannot stop. Thank you for capturing so honestly how gratitude and sadness can occupy the same space and how grief quietly reshapes the ordinary moments of daily life.
Thank you, Reverend. You have a rare gift for empathizing with a stranger and making them feel seen and understood on a level that's deeper than from people who have met me several times.
🤗🙌🥰
Jen, your response points to something I have come to appreciate about good writing: when someone describes their experience honestly and specifically, readers often recognize pieces of their own story within it. I think that is part of why your essay resonated. Cooper was uniquely yours, yet the routines, the quiet absences, and the experience of loving someone through an unavoidable transition are deeply human experiences. Thank you for trusting readers with those ordinary, sacred details; they are often what help the rest of us feel seen too.
My condolences to you and your family, I feel for you. May Cooper rest easy.
Thank you, Csaba! I appreciate it. 🤗
I feel you and I’m so glad we aren’t alone. Xoxo hang in there my friend…and happy early birthday
Thank you, Christine! 🤗🥰