I Don't Want To, But I Will
An afternoon at the vet's office, and the sentence I won't say.
October 13, 2026
It is two o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. My sons and I are at the vet's office. We are fixing an appointment for tomorrow. It is the appointment to put down Coco, our sixteen-year-old shih tzu. We have been preparing ourselves for this moment. And yet we are inconsolable. How does that happen? Coco goes home with my older son. He keeps him in his lap and does not leave his side. My younger son and I go back to our own homes. All three of us live far away from each other. So we talk on the phone. We don't use video, because we are all crying. Coco receives the hugs we send. We are separate, and we are together. Then we wait twenty-four hours. Coco had been getting worse for six months. He fell sick often. He walked very slowly. A year ago he was a bundle of joy. He still tried. My body was geared up for this long before that Thursday. It affected my health. It affected my work. It affected how I felt every day. That is what six months of preparing looked like. Now I feel helpless that I cannot save him. Saying yes to the procedure fills me with so much guilt. The next day, Coco is gone. I am in a freeze. I can't focus. I feel very heavy. I worry about my sons and how they are coping. I keep talking to them to check in. For three days I can't eat. I live on coffee and water. I still manage to take the meetings I have to attend. And the whole time, I keep thinking about the decision I will have to make for my parents. What happens when we have to make a decision like this for them? What if I have to say yes to taking them off life support? The grief for my parents is very strong. The grief for Coco makes it worse. This is terrifying. And yet so many of us have to do it. When I think about it, I feel helpless and guilty, and the tears start pouring down my face. I don't know how I will do it. But I also know me. In a crisis, I am calm, slow and logical. So I know I will do it. I did it for Coco. I'm fine, thanks. You do this too. You already know you will be the one who manages it. What have you noticed about your parent that you have not said out loud? Who in your family will be asked to say yes? And when you picture that day, what do you tell yourself? The grief has already started. I am trying to build acceptance for it. Here is the sentence. I am writing it, because I will never say it out loud. I don't want this burden. I am the strong one in my family. I will do what needs to be done without flinching outwardly. But now I know what it will feel like after. My soul will be crushed, exactly as it was for Coco. My parents are doing fine right now. I am experiencing the load today, in anticipation of what comes someday. This silent grief is worse than anything else. I still haven't recovered. This month's blog is about silent grief, and how it shows up at work and at home. It has the research behind it, and it is more clinical than this letter. https://sarikakishore.com/blog/why-is-coping-with-elderly-parents-making-me-so-angry
The Steady Hour. An hour to put it down. It is free, and there are three a month.