By Meghan Fitzpatrick, Hospice & Palliative Care Representative
Old Colony Hospice & Palliative Care

I did a lot of traveling in August. Because my husband and I have a lovely, adventurous little pup who will go pretty much anywhere as long as she is allowed around people, several of our trips included her. Others, though, just weren’t going to work with a dog in tow.
That meant I found myself waking up several mornings without the need to immediately get up and take her for a walk.
I missed my dog terribly. But I have to admit, it was also kind of nice.
I could stretch. Make a cup of coffee. Sit for a few minutes and wake up slowly without immediately thinking about what needed to be done.
I felt a little guilty about enjoying it.
I love my dog. Was I a bad Dog Mom for not missing everything about her?
It was a familiar feeling, I realized.
Both of my grandmothers passed away after long, heroic battles with disease. One had cancer. The other had vascular dementia. I loved them both deeply, and I was incredibly lucky to have two wonderful, involved grandmothers well into my 20s and one into my 30s.
When they died, I was devastated.
I was also relieved.
When my paternal grandmother was dying from cancer, she had become incredibly weak. She had lost her beautiful, thick white hair, and it was clear that she wasn’t enjoying being alive anymore. By that point, our family had become something of a care management agency. We were helping with her finances, healthcare, daily needs, and really, everything.
My uncles were exhausted.
My grandmother was exhausted.
When she died, I remember thinking, “At least we can all rest now.”
Then I felt terrible for thinking it. I beat myself up over that thought for weeks.
My maternal grandmother lived well into her 90s, but dementia had gradually taken away so much of the woman I knew. The last time I saw her, I had to introduce myself. She had been living in assisted living and loved it until COVID changed everything and visiting became something we had to figure out through windows and other barriers.
She died in the fall of 2020. Again, I remember thinking, “Thank goodness she’s free of all of that, and we don’t have to try visiting her through an open window anymore.”
For a long time, I thought those feelings meant something was wrong with me.
Now, having spent years around hospice and end of life care, I understand them differently.
Relief is not the opposite of grief.
When someone has been sick for a long time, their death can bring an end to suffering. It can also bring an end to the constant worry, caregiving, decision-making, and exhaustion that surrounded their illness. The person we love is finally at rest, and sometimes, so are we.
Feeling relieved that the weight is gone does not mean we didn’t willingly carry it.
It doesn’t mean we loved someone less.
It certainly doesn’t mean we wouldn’t pick that weight right back up again if it meant we could have our loved one back.
I think that is what those mornings without my dog reminded me of. I missed her. I would have happily gotten up and taken her for a walk if she had been there. But I also enjoyed, for a few mornings, what it felt like to have one less responsibility waiting for me when I opened my eyes.
That didn’t make me a bad Dog Mom.
Feeling relief after someone we love dies doesn’t make us bad either.
There isn’t much that can make losing someone we love feel OK. Sometimes comfort comes from remembering the good years. Sometimes it comes from knowing they are no longer suffering.
And sometimes, it comes from finally being able to rest.
It’s OK to find comfort wherever you can, even in relief.

About the Author: Meghan Fitzpatrick is a business development representative at Old Colony Hospice & Palliative Care. She has a strong background in assisted living and dementia care. She is also a trained support group facilitator for the Alzheimer’s Association. Her compassion and knowledge make her a vital part of Old Colony Hospice’s outreach efforts. She is a trusted resource in the community, connecting with families, providers, and community partners throughout the region and can be reached at mfitzpatrick@oldcolonyhospice.com.