The Neurodivergent's Way of Facing Grief
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GGIogfXTw50S9Im24BxneW9EszUL4SiJb8pqLvmt3sjqbiZWuXQR8c0T85YzytDB8bb_fryMK9li_QGendzaR_2mOkLvtVBO7aEsv5sybflr7iPRPOvYgG5eKOHy2x5kWYFe9IYDwAO_UCHs9vbBHHorD_EPQpkOak5X923vrZPAqur_8hxKV14PrOPz/w640-h480/Tiger.jpg)
CONTENT WARNING: The following post discusses the death of a loved one and the grieving process associated with it. While I think the lessons from my experiences could be useful for my fellow neurodivergent folk, feel free to skip this post if you feel either uncomfortable or unprepared. I miss my dog a lot. His name is--was--Tiger. Early in 2022, he had come down with Cushing Syndrome, and due to his age, his condition was so severe that recovery was impossible. We resisted putting him to sleep for a while until the 5 th of October. I requested to take that week off from my volunteer job, to truly steel myself for what was to come. We'd known something like this was coming for a while, but the months leading up to it weren’t enough… and neither was that extra time. The night before that fated day, I was giving Tiger some hugs, when he suddenly rolled onto his back for belly rubs. It was the first time he had done that in weeks, and he even managed to do it twice before he tired