Loss

The house feels quieter now. Not in the dramatic, movie-soundtrack way—just a persistent, low hum of absence. Last week we unexpectedly had to say goodbye to my dog, Bear, a beautiful fox-red lab and my literal shadow for 5½ years. He was part of the everyday chaos that defines MS Dad Life and losing him has hit hard.

Losing Bear has layered right on top of everything else MS brings—the fatigue, the balance issues, the stiffness. And then there’s this weird brain thing MS has triggered in me. In intense or emotional situations—when I feel anguish or anger—I uncontrollably laugh. Tears might come, but so does the laugh. It’s shocking to people who aren’t warned, and it feels completely out of place. It’s called pseudobulbar affect (PBA), also known as pathological laughing and crying or emotional lability. It affects about 10% of people with MS because of how lesions impact the brain’s emotional control centers. Real talk: it makes hard moments even more complicated. I get the “Dad! Why are you laughing?!” looks from the boys, and it somehow makes the hurt land a little heavier.

We still have Daisy, nearly 12 years old. I can tell she feels the loss too. She lays on the floor, looking towards the door, waiting for me to call Bear to go play fetch. She loved joining in—especially stealing the ball and playing keep-away. That always bugged Bear, and it made me laugh. The boys have been pouring extra love into her every chance they get—extra pets, hugs, and kisses. It’s one of the small comforts right now.

Grief with MS is its own beast. One minute you’re trying to hold it together for the kids, the next your body is responding in ways that don’t match what’s inside. This is the boys’ first experience with death, so they’re processing it in their own ways—questions, stories, quiet moments crying. Carrie and I are navigating the practical side while giving everyone space to feel what they need to feel.

We handled the arrangements the best we could here in Castle Rock. It was heavy, but necessary. We plan to plant a new tree and place Bear’s ashes under the root ball so he can become part of it and stay with us forever.

Bear gave us years of unconditional love and comic relief in the middle of the chaos. He made the hard days softer just by being my shadow. Daisy is getting all the extra attention now, and we’re leaning on each other as a family—more hugs, more memories shared, more of the everyday mess that makes this life ours.

Loss sharpens things. It reminds me to appreciate all the good things that I still have, even as MS keeps throwing curveballs. We’ll keep moving—one wobbly step, one calm moment (or unexpected laugh), and one day at a time.

God love the dogs who walk beside us through it all. 💔🐾