I knew the anniversary of Thor's passing was coming. The date has lived quietly in the back of my mind, the way these anniversaries always do. No matter how much time passes, there are certain days that our hearts never quite forget. What I didn't expect was for it to hurt so much more this year. This year, I'm grieving Sarah Bean.

Losing Sarah Bean has opened a door I thought I had learned to gently keep closed. Suddenly, all of the emotions I felt when I lost Thor have come rushing back. The sadness feels familiar, yet different. It's layered now. It's heavier.

People often talk about grief as if it's something we eventually get over. I don't think that's true. I think we learn how to carry it. We learn how to laugh at the memories instead of crying every time. We learn to speak their names with smiles but grief never really leaves... it simply waits patiently in the corners of our hearts until something reminds us just how much we loved.

Thor was never "just a dog." He was family. He was a part of my everyday life, my routines, my happiest moments, and even my hardest days. Losing him left a space in my life that could never truly be filled. I added Sarah Bean first and she held her own special place in my heart, never comparing to Thor, but expanding my capacity to love and when I lost her, I didn't just lose her. I found myself grieving Thor all over again.

That's the thing about loving animals. They leave paw prints on our hearts that time cannot erase. When one paw print begins to fade into a cherished memory, another loss has a way of tracing over it, reminding us that love and grief are forever connected.

This anniversary feels different because I'm carrying two losses instead of one. I'm missing Thor while still trying to find my footing without Sarah Bean. Some moments feel impossibly heavy. Other moments bring me comfort when I imagine the two of them together, free from pain and waiting patiently for the people who loved them so deeply.

Grief isn't linear. It doesn't follow a schedule. Some anniversaries are easier than others, and some knock the wind out of you when you least expect it. This year is one of the hard ones. So I'm giving myself permission to grieve.

If there's one thing my pets have taught me, it's that love is unconditional. They never cared what kind of day I was having or whether I deserved their affection. They simply loved me. Thor and Sarah Bean may no longer be here physically, but they are still part of my story. They are woven into the person I am, the memories I cherish, and the love I continue to carry. The anniversary of loss is never really about remembering the day they left us. It's about remembering the beautiful days they spent loving us while they were here and for that, I will always be grateful.