Before my first Christmas without Murdock, I had three months of waking up without him, to that deafening silence of being alone. But that first Christmas morning was . . . different. The joy and excitement that is inherent in that day just seemed to make my loneliness louder.

For those of us who have experienced profound loss, one of the many reasons the holidays are such a struggle is that the lights and noise and decorations and laughter only amplify our grief. The chasm between the rest of the world (and it’s happy celebrations) and us (and our sadness) is immense, and feels like it can’t be crossed (not that we want to). What we want is to sit with our grief, allow our sadness, feel our feelings, remember – but we are supposed to be festive and joyful. We are lonely not just because of our loss, but because of our alone-ness in wishing the holidays away.

I don’t have two-legged children – but I love Murdock every bit as if he shared my DNA, and I loved celebrating Christmas with him. I bought and wrapped toys and treats (he discovered my hiding place). I made dog treats and passed them out to his “dog friends” (most of whom he never met). I did photo shoots of him every year in front of my Christmas tree. I dressed him in reindeer ears, and then a Santa beard, and then a Christmas bandana, all while I tried to hold cheese, get his attention, and take pictures that did not betray his sheer annoyance (although those are my favorite). Like the human version, he brought back the child-like wonder and simple joy of Christmas that tends to fade away as we grow out of our youth. But now, it is gone again.

It seems that as a society, we have a growing understanding that the holidays can be a difficult time of year for a lot of people. I hope so. Maybe it’s because as we grow older, the melancholy of Christmas starts to set in. Maybe it’s because the Christmases of our childhood can never be matched. Maybe it’s because as we walk through life, we have a better appreciation, through our own experiences, of the pain of loss.

Whatever the reason, it’s important to extend that grace of understanding to those who have lost a four-legged soulmate. These special souls were with us every day. They filled our time with total devotion and unconditional love. They made us laugh. They simplified what can be a complicated life. They helped us to see joy, even in dark times. Through their eyes, we explored and appreciated the wonder of the world around us.

And in that, they taught us, with every day of their precious lives, what Christmas is really about.

Merry Christmas, Murdock.