I had to say goodbye to my dog, Ozzy, today. One moment, he was with me, and the next, he was gone. His body lay still, and under my hands, I could no longer feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath. I gave him a last kiss—maybe two, maybe more—and then I left.

They’ll return his ashes in two weeks, but I’ll never truly know if they’ll be his or those of a random dog. But does it even matter? Ozzy isn’t in those ashes. He’s in every memory, every moment of love we shared.

While we were waiting for the doctor, I whispered to him, “Thank you.” Thank you not just for the companionship, the walks, the endless memories, but for everything he taught me over these 16 years of love. I told him thank you over and over again. I asked him to visit me, to send me signs that he’s still here, somewhere around me, running free. I covered him in kisses, in soft caresses, and yet I still wish I had given him more—more time, more love, more of everything.

My heart is shattered, and I can barely stand to write about him because the pain is unbearable. But somehow, I know that if I don’t put these words down today, something about this goodbye will be missing, tomorrow.

Mauro, my ex-husband, wrote something about Ozzy. He said that he wasn’t really a good dog. And the truth is—he wasn’t. He was jealous, possessive, grumpy, intense. But he was my dog, and I loved him with all my being. And he loved me just as fiercely. If anyone ever taught me the meaning of pure, unconditional love, it was Ozzy.

And when I say thank you, I mean thank you for teaching me the many layers of love—love that is patient, love that is resilient, love that sacrifices.

For weeks, maybe months, I resisted the idea that it was time. That he was suffering. That I needed to let him go. So, a few days ago, I asked the Universe for a sign. "If Ozzy is ready, show me the Death card."

The next morning, there it was—the Death card. I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was just a coincidence, even though I know better. Tarot has always spoken to me clearly.

Then, in the last few days, Ozzy got worse. And Yesterday morning, during my daily tarot reading, there it was again. Death.

I cried all day because deep down, I already knew the truth. I had to let Ozzy go. I knew he was ready. I had to be ready too—for him. And yet, neither of us wanted to say goodbye.

It’s an impossible thing, to part from someone you love so dearly. This pain I feel is as big as the love I have for him.

And I think about how courageous we humans are—to love so deeply, knowing that everything we love can be touched by death.

Goodbye, my brave little warrior. Goodbye, my sweet, grumpy friend. Goodbye, my boy. I will love you forever.