(MENAFN- Khaleej Times)

If you have known grief that follows the loss of a loved one - the kind that sometimes washes over you like a tidal wave, and sometimes comes in smothered sobs or torrential tears - you will know that the sorrow remains stuck in the small crevices of our heart for a long time. It doesn't leave easily.

It lingers in echoes, in spaces where love once lived. And contrary to what many believe, this ache is not reserved only for the loss of human connections. Many times, grief arrives with the silence of empty food bowls, the absence of a familiar paw tapping at the door, or the phantom echo of a bark or purr that once filled our homes with joy.

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For those who have loved and lost a pet, the pain is not any less than losing a human companion. It is real, visceral, and often misunderstood.

We live in a world that, for all its declarations of emotional openness, still fails to recognise certain kinds of sorrow. One of them is the heartbreak that follows the death of a beloved animal. Many who grieve the loss of a pet feel a double weight - the grief itself and the discomfort of living in a society that doesn't always validate it.

It is in this obscure, often unspoken, emotional setting that Beth Bigler offers her presence and purpose. A certified pet loss and grief counsellor based in the US, Bigler is the voice behind Honoring Our Animals, a support platform for grieving pet parents. Through her deeply intuitive work, she helps people navigate what she calls“the sacred grief” of losing their most unconditional companions.

For Bigler, this work is not a pursuit of a career. It is a profoundly personal endeavour that gives pet mourning its due credence. Her journey into this tender terrain began with her cat Arnie.“He was my constant through every relationship, every career chapter, every life transition,” she says. When Arnie was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2017, Bigler's world crumbled.“I didn't know how to prepare to lose him, or how to survive it.” It was only after finding an anticipatory grief counsellor that she realised how vital it is to be supported through such heartbreak.

Arnie eventually went into remission, giving Bigler some unexpected extra time with him, which she says she held sacred. But when another, aggressive cancer took him months later, the grief returned, this time deeper and more defining.“That loss broke me open,” she reflects.“I couldn't imagine walking through life without honouring what we built together.”

It was then that Bigler left behind a two-decade career as a writer and producer in Hollywood and trained to become a grief counsellor. Her mission was clear: to ensure no one felt alone or ashamed in their mourning.“I didn't start this work because Arnie died,” she clarifies.“I started it because I couldn't not honour what he meant to me.”

Her sessions are unlike any traditional therapy model. Each begins with the lighting of a candle, a quiet gesture that welcomes the presence of the departed animal into the space.“They're not just someone we're talking about. They're still with us,” she says.

Grief, in Bigler's practice, is not something to be 'fixed' or hurried through.“I meet people exactly where they are. Some days we cry, some days we laugh at memories. Some days we simply sit in silence.” What stands out in her approach is the radical permission to feel the sorrow fully, unapologetically, and without fear of judgment.

Bigler speaks of the“grief shame” that many of her clients carry - a societal guilt around mourning“just a pet” or the agony of receiving unsolicited advice to“get another one” or“to cry for a few days and move on”. But, she explains, to the heartbroken pet parents, these animals were daily companions, emotional anchors and silent witnesses to life's storms.“We grieve not only the love, but also the routine, the meaning, the mirror they held up to us,” she says.“For many, it's the one relationship in their life that was pure, uncomplicated, and unwavering.”

And like all deep love stories, the goodbye is often not simple. Bigler notes how pet grief sometimes carries an additional burden - the guilt of euthanasia.“Many guardians must make the heartbreaking choice to end their beloved's suffering, and that complicates the mourning.”

Closure of grief, as she sees it, is a myth.“Love doesn't end when physical presence does. The relationship evolves.” Instead of moving on, Bigler encourages her clients to move with their pain; to honour the bond in new ways. From lighting candles to using their pet's name at coffee shops, to wearing their collar as a bracelet, her clients find rituals that keep the connection alive.“I use Arnie's name when I order coffee. Hearing his name shouted in a crowded room still makes me smile,” she says fondly.

Some of the most beautiful moments in her work come when clients find healing in surprising ways. One woman who had been sceptical of anything“spiritual” began volunteering at the shelter where she had adopted her late dog. She began feeling that her beloved was guiding her towards the animals that needed the most love.“She went from 'I'll never feel him again' to 'he's my partner in this work.'”

Bigler's work goes beyond helping people mourn and accept the reality of the loss. It's about teaching them how to love themselves through it.“What they'd really notice is this: I'm not trying to fix grief. I'm trying to honour it,” she says about her approach to counselling.

Bigler's new book, Honoring Our Animals, published in June 2025, is a daily companion for grieving pet parents, offering 365 meditations, invitations, and moments of recognition. It's designed to validate, not diminish, the depth of their grief.“What I want every reader to walk away with,” she says,“is the quiet truth that love doesn't end. It simply learns to shelter differently.”

Bigler's Instagram page, @honoringouranimals, is more than a social feed. It is a daily balm for hearts in mourning. She shares posts twice a day, each drawn from real conversations with clients, steeped in insight and empathy. She hopes that anyone who stumbles upon her posts feels seen and meets that moment of recognition where someone, finally, understands what they're going through.

Grief is not the souvenir of love or the augmentation of absence. It is love's extension that transcends time. And in Beth Bigler's world, that love endures, one sacred remembrance at a time. When she says:“I aim to make sure no one in my care ever feels like their grief is 'too much',” what she means is our grief makes complete sense – whether it is for a person or a pet. In either case, moving on may not be entirely possible, but making peace just might be.

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