ArcaMax

Dear Annie: Five years ago, I lost my father to heart problems. Three months ago, I lost my mother after a terrible fall. I am 66, and I was her caregiver. I took early retirement at 62 so I could be there for her, and I do not regret it. But now that she is gone, I feel like the role I built my life around disappeared overnight, and I am not sure what I am supposed to be doing with all this quiet.

People have been kind, and I know they mean well, but I keep getting caught off guard when someone casually asks, "How's your mom doing?" or "What happened?" I will be standing in the grocery store aisle, trying to act normal, and suddenly I am swallowing a lump in my throat and forcing a smile. I do not want to make other people uncomfortable, but I also do not want to pretend I am fine when I am not.

I live alone. I am the only family member left. The one steady comfort has been my dog. Every week or so, I take him with me to the cemetery. I sit there, let the tears come, and hug him like he is the only one who understands. Sometimes I even tell him, out loud, that none of this is his fault, because he seems sad, too, and I swear he is grieving in his own way.

Where I live, there are no grief classes or support groups that I can find. I am trying to figure out what is normal and what is a sign I need more help. Should I be looking for a book that can guide me through this, or is it time to talk to a therapist or psychiatrist? And if pets grieve, too, is there anything I should be doing differently for him, besides holding him close? -- Missing Them Both

Dear Missing Them Both: I'm so sorry. You didn't just lose your parents; you lost the role that gave your days structure and meaning. After years of caregiving, the quiet can feel like a shock to the system. That's not weakness. That's love with nowhere obvious to go.

When people ask, "How's your mom?" they're usually trying to connect, not pry, but it still stings. You don't owe anyone a play-by-play. Keep a simple sentence ready: "She passed a few months ago. I'm taking it day by day." Or, "It's still fresh, and I'd rather not get into details." Then shift the conversation. That's not being cold. That's having boundaries.

The cemetery visits with your dog are actually a healthy kind of ritual. If it's where you can let the tears come, let them come. And yes, pets can grieve, and they also pick up on our grief. The best support for your dog is steady routine, movement and affection. Keep the walks, keep the hugs, and keep talking to him. You're doing more right than you think.

As for whether to read a book or see a psychiatrist, I'd start with a therapist or grief counselor, even if it's online since your area doesn't offer groups. A psychiatrist is most useful if you're sliding into deep depression, panic or sleeplessness that won't ease. Either way, getting help isn't "too much." It's sensible.

You spent years taking care of someone else. Now it's your turn to be cared for, too.

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"Out of Bounds: Estrangement, Boundaries and the Search for Forgiveness" is out now! Annie Lane's third anthology is for anyone who has lived with anger, estrangement or the deep ache of being wronged -- because forgiveness isn't for them. It's for you. Visit http://www.creatorspublishing.com for more information. Follow Annie Lane on Instagram at @dearannieofficial. Send your questions for Annie Lane to dearannie@creators.com.