TWC 008 | Grieve and Gratitude
I've always known that I wanted to reflect on these topics, and these days they have come up quite a lot, so I thought, why not now?
In this episode, I share the heartfelt journey of dealing with the loss of our dog Laika and my brother Gabriel. I talk about letting myself feel sadness and finding moments of gratitude. From navigating a mishap on a road-trip to appreciating the small joys in life, I hope my experiences resonate with you and offer some comfort and connection. Welcome to the Club!
Dear Wonder Club,
Almost three years ago, we moved from Beirut to Belgium. When that happened, we knew we wanted to bring our dogs with us: Gordo and Laika. However, we also knew we needed to find a place where they would be welcomed first, and that took time—finding a place in general wasn’t easy. We eventually found an amazing place by October 2021, but could only move in January 2022. We actually managed to have it a bit earlier and spent our first night there on December 31st, with a mattress on the floor that felt as amazing as the best bed you could have. But it wasn’t until March that we were able to bring the dogs. I couldn’t leave the country yet because I initially had an issue with my papers and was still in the process of getting my residency card, so Joseph had to go alone and bring them.
We were in a bit of a rush because, around January, we also found out that Laika had a super aggressive cancer that suddenly appeared and quickly evolved, taking us by surprise. We tried helping her with surgery, but ultimately, she never fully recovered and was with us here in Gent for only one month before passing.
I remember one of the initial things I wanted to explore in therapy was the topic of “grieving.” I was not really sure if I knew how to grieve. Back in 2007, my brother Gabriel suddenly passed away. He was only six years old. I was 17 and had just moved away from home to start university.
I was not really sure if, even after over ten years, I was still able to fully process grieving. I felt unsure about what grief was. And I was also unsure if I ever allowed myself to feel what I was supposed to be feeling.
In retrospect, I guess you could say I suppressed a lot of emotions. I had the mindset of “If there’s anything I can do about it, let me try to continue and work on the things that I actually can”—sort of making lemonade with the lemons I was given. And I don’t blame myself for trying to do that, as that mentality probably helped me stay afloat and overcome the difficult situation. At the same time, I was definitely numbing a part of myself.
When Gabo passed, I was not there (I was in a different city for university). When my grandma passed years later, I was not there (I had just returned to Beirut). So now, as I think about it, I guess I was also afraid that I would not be able to be there one more time for Laika.
This time, I knew that Laika was very sick, and even though we couldn’t predict how much time she had left, it was clear pretty quickly that she didn’t have much. I decided that I would embrace the grieving process with her, whatever that meant. I allowed myself to be sad—really sad—for her, for me, and for us. I remember telling myself something like, “I’ll give myself two weeks of sadness. I won’t try to make myself feel ‘better,’ and then we’ll see and act accordingly.” Every time I had the thought of “everything is going to be okay” and tried to '“uplift” myself, I would shut it off and just be okay with being sad (or melancholic, or just unsure about the future, questioning ‘why’ and being angry or whatever I needed to feel).
I think it’s safe to say that was the first time I allowed myself to feel really ‘bad’ and sad. But by then, I already knew that all emotions are here to show us a part of ourselves. No emotion is ‘bad’ or ‘good,’ just necessary. So even though it was a low point for me, by the end of 2022, I was actually proud that I allowed myself to navigate all that.
After Laika’s passing, we received a “Little Book of Laika” from a friend, which is an empty little book to be filled with stories about her. I loved the idea of remembering our time together and keeping us talking about her as a reminder of all the good times.
I also like the idea because I think that even until today, I haven’t spoken about my brother enough, or as much as I could have or wanted to.
If I had a Little Book of Gabo, I would add how smart he was and how proud I was of him. I would share how I felt he would have been so good at English (finally, someone in the family who got it from a young age). I’d include stories like how he used to love Hot Wheels cars, and how once, at the airport, he beeped on the metal detector because he had hidden more than ten cars in his pockets. I’d remember finding a bunch of Oreo cookies in the trash because he’d eaten only the cream and hidden the evidence. I’d talk about how special and important he made me feel, his kindness and maturity. How much I miss him. And how much his departure change the course of my life.
Years ago, while learning more about the grieving process, I heard a question from Gaby Pérez Islas, a thanatologist: “If you knew that the cost of having that loved one in your life was this grief, would you have rather not had them in your life at all?” For me, the answer was a categorical no.
When gratitude didn’t feel natural, I looked for affirmations or mantras that aligned with what I was seeking. Sometimes, other people have a better way of putting feelings into words. And, whenever I put into perspective whatever happens in the world and its injustices, it becomes a bit easier to ‘feel better’ and grateful for my share.
I’ve also said something in the past that comforts me a bit. If it’s true that we get to choose the experiences we live through before coming into this life, knowing myself, I have no doubts that I’d choose to go through ‘everything necessary’ to learn as much as I can. I’m certain I would do that to myself.
My niece was just here visiting us, and I heard her a few times saying she doesn’t want the trip to end, adding “this is now my last day” or “this is now my last breakfast.” I immediately thought to add “of this trip” because, instead of feeling like “the end,” it’s just something that opens the door for what the future can hold. Of course, it’s normal to feel a bit blue when good things are coming to an end, but how amazing is it when they have also opened your heart and your brain in ways you didn’t expect or imagine? To have the gift of transformation, expansion, or just embracing a new lesson. I’m so grateful for such moments!
I do think that loss and grieve are one of the hardest situations we transit in this human experience. Not only because we’ll face the unknown, but also because there are things no matter how much we try cannot bring back- and that sucks. On the other side, gratitude is what keeps bringing me back to a better place when everything sucks.
To help me ‘set up for success’ I have a gratitude journal, that even though I don’t fill everyday, I know it’s there when needed (which is usually when I least feel like it). I also have lists of milestones in my agenda with their ‘start’ and ‘accomplished’ dates. I find that once a goal is completed, I tend to make it small, like if it was ‘nothing much'‘, so I’m also trying to keep tabs on the things I worked hard and give me my clap on the back when achieved. Because it does matter and it’s nice to recognize it.
I also recently saw a post titled “What is a Success Jar?” and I loved it. I called it the “Gratitude Jar”, but it’s basically the same concept. Write down your accomplishments or what you are grateful for on little pieces of paper and drop them in. Whenever you are not feeling your best, you can go back to the jar and surprise yourself with what you have done (which you probably no longer remember by then).
Short-story time: “Every action has consequences”
While our niece was visiting, we went on a road-trip together. Unfortunately, during the trip, a water bottle that wasn’t properly closed in the trunk of the car leaked and ruined my laptop. I discovered the damage by chance during the night while tidying up, and I won’t lie—I was angry. Who did it? Why me? Why that bag? Why my laptop? I understood it wasn’t intentional, but I was the one affected and bearing the consequences.
The next day, I felt I had to speak up about the incident, but I also realized I didn’t want the trip to be ruined by what had happened. I still wanted to create those core memories, and at the end of the day, it was just a thing. I gave myself space to decide what to do—leave it drying a few days, seek technical support, and check if a repair was feasible. I was grateful that I could afford a replacement and tried to focus on that.
I read not long ago that so many people wish to go back in time and change a little thing that can potentially change the course of the future. However, not many of us think about the present that way. That we can still have a big impact on the future with the small actions of today.
Greetings from someone who knows the ache of loss, but also believes that having those we loved join us in life makes it all worth it.
- G.
This is a bimonthly newsletter and podcast available every other Thursday. You can find the podcast on Spotify.
Get a Behind The Scenes Bonus when you become a paid subscriber! Not sure yet if a subscription is for you? You can still support The Wonder Club by buying me a coffee.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Wonder Club to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.