Life Through Rose Colored Glasses

Grief is something I’ve been fortunate enough to go 40 years without knowing deeply. Don’t get me wrong… I’ve experienced deep loss, but grief is different. It is undeniable, ever-present, and doesn’t care to be convenient.

On December 13, 2025 my beloved English Bulldog, Rose, passed away in my arms just seven days short of her eleventh birthday. In an instant, the gravitational pull of my world was gone. No more sounds, no more 45-pound bread-shaped heater to make me sweat at night, no more snuggles and belly rubs. She was gone and nothing would ever be the same again.

It takes a deep level of love and devotion to raise an animal or to be the caregiver of any being. The mundane details of each day become what adorn the fabric of your life. Our little tapestry was a beautiful one.

I’ve been reflecting on how this loss has affected my ability to sit in the stillness of my home. In the past six months, I’ve spent a lot of time on planes and living out of a suitcase. No matter how much I try, our home feels empty without her, and I find my eyes still looking for her in the moments I forget she’s gone.

As a pretty type-A person who loves to work… the reason I got Rose was so I could hold myself accountable to take breaks and go outside. We did just that. She was my road trip buddy and perfect passenger as I drove from Los Angeles to Florida — and back — for my then aura photography business. We drove across the country 12 times together! She saw more of this country than a lot of people do!

I felt so safe having her with me no matter the circumstance. Would she have actually done something to protect me? Maybe not, but her bark was menacing enough to deter anyone from trying anything.

As I packed my bags to head to the airport yet again after being home for less than 24 hours, I found myself telling a friend the story I’d been telling myself: “It’s hard to be home because my dog is dead.” (This is my blunt dark humor.)

But then, out of nowhere, it hit me. What if I’m not running away from the pain of losing Rose, but instead I’m being pulled to continue to go outside? I really do believe that we carry those we love with us, and I know her curiosity and adventurous spirit is what I want to focus on — even when it hurts.

I know a lot of us are going through a tough time. Pet loss might not be it for you, but I want you to know that there is always something good seeking to emerge from challenging times. Please rely on those around you and trust your instincts. If you want to reach out to someone, do. If you want to sit and cry, you should! But please, please, please know that you are absolutely not alone.

If you ever feel stuck. Go outside.