The beauty of grief
I try not to write overly personal posts here on Project Vanity. I’ve moved most of it to lizlanuzo.com, my personal blog, because I wanted to separate my thoughts about my own life from Project Vanity’s stories about beauty. Today I was going to write about another beauty story here, something about my current skincare routine or my thoughts about wedding makeup, perhaps - but I couldn’t. Instead I want to talk about the beauty of grief.
I was never very good with grief. I avoided it like the plague, and I always tried to prepare myself for it ahead of time by keeping my distance from the end point. But grief, of course, finds all of us. And it found me this week in the most painful way.
I wrote here on 2011 about the day I found Snaps, my 9.5-year old Pomeranian. He was still a puppy then, and I raised him with all the love I could possibly give to another living thing. I made every single day he lived as happy as I could make it; even when I was traveling abroad, he was with his nanny who loved him and played with him. He passed away last Monday, October 12. I can’t describe the pain I feel in words, because there are no words for it. There simply aren’t any.
Yes, I am one of those millennials who treat their pets as if they are people. I’m not ashamed of it; it’s what makes sense, because pets are people. They give us so much joy in their lifetime - more than most humans - and it’s only natural that we give it back to them too.
I’ve wondered several times in the last week if it was better not to have had Snaps at all if I could skip the pain that I feel right now. But honestly, even if I knew this would happen nine years ago, I wouldn’t have changed anything. Every single day I had with Snaps was better because he was with me. We loved each other so much, and were so bonded that we always knew what the other was thinking or feeling. We had so many good times together! If I didn’t meet him, then I wouldn’t have to feel this grief, but then isn’t grief the ultimate proof of love? This kind of grief can only exist in the loss of a love so great. I am grateful to have had this love in the first place.
Grief is messy, and ugly, and not to be wished on anyone. But what consoles me right now is that it comes after nine beautiful years with my best friend. As Louise Banks (played by Amy Adams) said in the movie Arrival, “Despite knowing the journey... and where it leads... I embrace it... and I welcome every moment of it.”
