she shows up
grief for my girl & the alignment and support of the cosmos
She shows up in purple,
royal and Divine.
She shows up as crows,
speaking truth and flying high.
She shows up in moments,
memories so tenderly arise.
She shows up as sparkles,
transcendence in real time.
She shows up in sounds,
hearing her steps so closely by.
She shows up as feathers,
softly finding me from heaven’s flight.
She shows up in dreams,
my guardian through every night.
She shows up—how blessed am I
She shows up—Her legacy, my life.
I began this day in tears and have yet to abandon them. Instead, I am allowing them to flow and to be felt. I am allowing myself to flow and be felt. I didn’t expect grief to find me right as the clock landed on midnight, right as my head began to soften into the pillow. Like an ocean wanting to escape my eyelids, and how deeply my soul seeks hers, my Lola girl. How is today 3 years without you? Lola was, and will forever be, my baby girl. Fate ensured we found each other. Me, 21 years old and sitting in the employee break room at the DoubleTree Hotel where I worked, all alone, and my intuition spoke to me. Call the Saginaw Humane Society and ask if they have puppies. I had been feeling the guidance that it was time, even though so much in my life, the circumstances, the conditions, so much would logically say no, no, no, now is not the time for you to get a puppy, and yet my heart and gut were held up by the guidance of yes, yes, yes it is. Call. Ask. See. And so I did.
The woman I spoke to on the phone shared with me that they had what they thought were Labrador mix puppies. They started with 7, and they had just one left. She asked, "Do you want us to hold her for you until you get out of work?" Her? I had envisioned a male dog, but yet my heart and gut bounded beyond the idea my mind had for me. With excitement and absoluteness, I said, "Yes, please."
My brother went with me to get her. It makes this moment in time even more precious for me. When we arrived, they shared with us that Lola was the smallest but had the most spunk. And there she was, bouncing in the kennel, excited beyond belief. She was 8 weeks old, all black except for the small white speck on her chin and a few white hairs on the tip of her tail and just a couple of her toes. She was beautiful. And energetic. And everything. I was also blessed to have a landlord who was open to her coming home with me. It was as though all these things that could have been no’s, could have been blocks and barriers, instead were wide open doors, allowing this relationship to begin. Allowing our souls to reunite and meet each other as the very adolescent beings we were. She licked me and my brother’s face the entire ride home. I kept thinking, Wow, she’s crazy, just like me…
I was 21. And as a 21-year-old, I thought I really had it all together. Like, I knew how to do this whole adulting thing. I didn’t then. And truthfully, what I know now I accredit a lot to Lola and the way she grew up with me. We grew up together in many ways. Circumstances had a way of bringing growth opportunities quickly. I was in a relationship, and the relationship was turning toxic—unhealthy, just two kids trying to make it work. Two kids who had a whole lot of childhood trauma they were just beginning to greet, and two kids whose parents held a whole lot of dysfunction, disease, and defeat. I try not to revisit those years too often, but when I do, it is to find her. She always had a way of grounding me. She always had a way of showing me that it no longer was just about me. I now had her, and she had me, and we had to learn how to do this whole thing of life together.
My regrets with her ruminate from those early years. I was limited. I was lost. I was living in a way that wasn’t really living for me. Alcohol and a relationship that quickly transformed from healthy to hurtful, even violent at times. It wasn’t my own eyes in the reflection that saved me from staying in that cycle, it was her eyes that got me to really see—not just that the relationship I was in wasn’t working, but that I needed to be well, loved, safe, and so did she.
Lola walked me through my own denial of my worth and woke me up to all I was worthy of—the love she had for me. She was there in my awakening and she was there in my ignorance and sleep. She was always the safest place for me to land. To rest my head on her chest and feel her breathe, hear her breathe—everything, it was everything to me. Lola was with me through the Armageddon of my own life. With me in the finding of my mama lifeless in her living room and my dad soulless standing in the garage, telling me she’s dead, and soon, so would he… Lola was with me when I couldn’t move, when I couldn’t sleep, when I couldn’t comprehend a damn or Divine thing. She was with me. And never left my side.
When all the humans fell short, she (and her brother Carlos) always rose to the occasion.
Losing them both has been a permanent hole in my heart, and what I find is these holes have allowed me to stay open, expand my love, and continue to breathe…
This day began with tears falling and my breath holding on to her memory, calling her closer with every teardrop, and surrendering even more softly into the grief I feel, which truly is love… true and deep love… This is what it means to love so deeply.
I find it interesting that, as this anniversary begins, so does the timing of our planets shifting, especially all that is happening in Pisces. I am a Pisces. Through and through. My sun, rising, and Mercury all reside in Pisces. Lola passed one week before my 35th birthday. I feel it was because she knew I was ready. And, I believe she was ready too. To drop her body. To release the suffering she was experiencing from her spine and legs. All the ways living life with fullness was becoming more and more difficult for her. I always asked her to let me know, clearly and courageously, when the time would come that she would need me to do the bravest thing and allow her to let her body go. And three years ago, I knew… she told me yet again with her eyes everything she needed to say to me, even though I so badly did not want to hear.
I never wanted to let her go. But love told me. She told me. It was time.
And now here we are, in this timing of shifts, planetary and personal, collective and conscious. Just today, at the stroke of midnight, Mercury entered Pisces.
Mercury in Pisces is a softening, an invitation to move beyond the rigid logic and sharp edges of thought into a space of intuition, flow, and emotion. It’s the cosmos asking me to trust in my deeper wisdom, to listen with my heart as much as my mind. This transit invites me to speak from the heart, share from the soul, and understand that communication is not only about words but the spaces between them—the feelings, the energy, the unspoken truths.
It’s no surprise that this energy coincides with the anniversary of Lola’s passing. It’s as though the universe is wrapping me in the same tenderness that I gave to her. This shift mirrors my journey, where the boundaries between grief and love, between past and present, continue to blur. Mercury in Pisces isn’t about moving forward with clarity in the way I’m used to; it’s about trusting that, in the stillness of surrender, the path will reveal itself. I’ve already lived this wisdom, through Lola’s guidance, through my own heart’s capacity to love deeply and grieve even more deeply.
This is a time of listening more to my inner voice, the same voice that guided me to Lola in the first place. It’s a cosmic reminder that grief is not only about loss but about the deep, eternal connection that never leaves us. As Mercury moves through Pisces, I allow myself to let the tears come and flow with them, knowing that they are part of the healing and the remembering.
Just as I’ve felt Lola’s presence in purple, in crows, in sparkles, in feathers, in dreams—now, she speaks to me in the soft, watery whispers of Pisces. This moment, this shift, this anniversary, is all about love and remembrance, all about surrendering to what is and trusting in the unseen forces that guide me.
Three years ago, I had to do the bravest thing I’ve ever done—help her let go. And now, here I am again, in the midst of another moment of letting go. The stars are inviting me—and all of us—to do the same. To feel deeply, to process, and to love so much that we can courageously detach, surrender, and set ourselves free.
She is with me, now and always, flowing through me like the water that knows no end, only transformation.
Lola, in her body and now in spirit, taught me so much during her time with me—about love, loyalty, and the immense beauty of just being. Even as I surrender to her absence, I know that her lessons have not gone away. They are here with me, guiding me, as they always will. For anyone who is missing someone—whether it's a person, a relationship, or a moment lost in time—know that their presence continues. They stay with us, in the memories, in the lessons, in the quiet moments when we feel their whisper. They never truly leave, because the teachings, the love, and the connection they gave us remain. Lola will forever guide me. And in that way, she—like all those we love—never goes away
As I sit with Lola’s presence and the wisdom of the cosmos, I am reminded that nothing ever truly leaves us. Not the love we shared with those who’ve passed, not the teachings that come with grief, and not the connection that continues to guide us from beyond. The shifting tides of Pisces remind me that grief isn’t linear; it’s a process of growth, of lessons unfolding in their own time, in their own way. And just as Lola’s light continues to guide me, so too does the love of every soul we’ve shared our lives with—the ones who have passed and the ones still with us in spirit.
Tomorrow, I’m holding a Pet Loss Grief Circle with my comrade in this Sacred work
—this is a sacred space for those who are navigating the depths of grief and loss. Whether it’s the absence of a beloved pet, the memory of a cherished connection, or the stillness left behind when something or someone dear to us moves on, we will gather in community to honor and support one another. In the company of those who understand, we will create space for our stories, our tears, our healing.This circle, like the guidance of our beloved companions, is an invitation to feel, to process, and to remember that love endures beyond any physical separation. And just like Lola’s teachings have reminded me, nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know. Through grief, we find wisdom. Through loss, we find connection.
There are still 4 spots open. If you’re feeling the call to join us in this tender space, to share in the support and healing that comes when we are held together, I invite you to come. Let’s honor the love and lessons our pets have left us with—because they are still here, teaching us, guiding us, always.