Loving Fiercely After Loss

a reflection on pets, plants and bereavement by stacey james mcadoo

Floating flat on my back in the middle of the pool, ears submerged, the world goes completely silent. The physical weight of everything lifts. It is pure bliss. A weightless peace…one that feels like what I imagine heaven to be: zero noise, zero struggle, total alignment, and a deep feeling of being completely wrapped in love.

And it all started with four simple words.

A few weeks ago, during a yoga session with Still Standing:The Practice (a support community filled with resilient women who are still standing despite the many obstacles and blows life has thrown), the member who was leading the session explained yoga in a simple way that I had never heard before:

“Yoga is right now.”

She explained that yoga isn’t about perfectly executed poses or quiet rooms; it’s simply about being present in the moment…having a clear mind and bringing your body, mind, and spirit into total alignment. She reminded us that you can take savasana (the final, resting pose of a yoga practice) with you anywhere. You can do it at your desk, in bed, or right in the middle of a stressful workday.

We had just wrapped up a group challenge centered on rest, so at the end of the session, she looked at me and said, “Stacey, since you’re always setting challenges for the women in Still Standing, why don’t we do a savasana challenge next?”

That challenge was exactly what I needed. I embraced her notion that savasana could be taken any where and immediately started doing it in various places – including the gym. And that’s what led me into the water. For a long time, peace felt like something I had to fight to find. But floating in the pool, peace isn’t something I fight for; it’s something I surrender to.

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Twenty-nine years ago our first “inside the house” dog, Frisky, died suddenly and unexpectedly. The grief was so sharp that I built a wall around my heart against pets thinking it would protect me. I swore I’d never let myself get attached like that again to another dog. Since then I have bought five different dogs as gifts for my mom, but I kept my emotional distance from every single one of them. I convinced myself that if I didn’t let them in too deeply, I wouldn’t have to suffer their inevitable absence.

I thought armor could keep me safe.

Then came the unimaginable: the death of my “sonshine,” followed by the total unraveling of my marriage and the life I knew. The armor I had spent years constructing didn’t save me from heartbreak. It couldn’t.

Conventional wisdom tells you not to make any major decisions or purchases in the first year after a devastating loss. But just one month after losing my son, I went out and brought home my dog, Teddy.

It broke every rule I’d set for myself. But what I’ve come to understand is that bringing Teddy home wasn’t a distraction, it was an act of defiance. It was my spirit declaring that even while drowning in grief, I refused to let my heart turn to stone.

Today, Teddy stays attached to me around the house like velcro. He trots behind me everywhere, curling up at my feet while I write, read or work. Bringing him home was my way of choosing to risk attachment again, not because I had forgotten how much loss hurts, but because I finally understood that love is worth the risk. Every. Single. Time.

That same fierce commitment lives inside my home today, surrounded by 35 thriving plants.

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A Chinese Evergreen, a pothos, a ZZ plant, and a small African Violet that I affectionately named Flame were the first to bless and adorn my home. I purchased them a few months before Norel’s death, back when life was quiet and I was beginning to embrace being an empty nester. Originally, I just wanted green leaves, pretty decor, and clean air. But over time, as my world turned upside down, my relationship with them shifted into something far deeper.

In the quiet, I learned to pay attention in a way I never had before. I began to hear them drinking water through the soil. And every now and again I’d catch them “crying” like Aurora is doing right now as I type. 

Once you’ve survived the unthinkable, you notice the subtle details others walk right past. Listening to a plant drink or watching a new leaf unfurl isn’t just about plant care…it’s an active practice of pouring love into something fragile and honoring it right now, in this moment even though you know you won’t have it forever.

When you pay attention like that, you realize that grief doesn’t close your heart; it sharpens it. The other day I ran across something on my timeline that captured this exact truth:

“The people who carry grief love with a fierceness that no one else knows. They understand what’s at stake because they’ve had to let someone go… They know that life is rare.”

Grief taints the world a little gray, but it also turns up the volume on grace. It strips away the noise and reminds us of what actually counts.

My 35 plants don’t offer guarantees; Teddy won’t live forever; my family is still broken and fractured; and every time I step out of the pool, gravity returns. But I try not to hold back anymore. I’m trying to practice “right now”. I float in the quiet water. I listen to my plants drink while Teddy sits at my feet. And I’m learning to love fiercely and without reservation…not in spite of what it costs, but because I know love is worth the risk, no matter how long I get to hold onto it.

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Stacey McAdoo, the 2019 Arkansas Teacher of the Year, has dedicated over twenty years to advocating for traditionally underrepresented students and educators. Her relationship-based approach to education is featured in the award-winning Arkansas PBS docuseries Closing the Opportunity Gap and her specialized course, Coaching Self-Expression: Go-In Poet.

As the founder of the Writeous Poets (a spoken word and youth advocacy collective) and an expert professional development facilitator, Stacey designs transformative sessions centered on arts integration, equity, and empowerment. She currently serves as a professor at Reach University and the national Managing Director of Learning & Development for Teach Plus. Additionally, she is the host of the A Mile In My Shoes: The Walk & Talk Podcast and the founder of Still Standing: The Practice, a community for resilient women who, to the world’s astonishment and surprise, continue to stand and thrive despite life’s most unimaginable challenges.