Pulling this document up gave me an instant stomachache. From the moment I realized Leo’s death fell within the 40 to 40 timeline, I knew this would be the hardest day of the entire series.

Will I even be able to honor him the way he deserves? Or will the lesson I want to share be overshadowed by sadness?

I don’t know, so I’m just going to type.

One year ago today, I lost my best friend. It was a summer-ending event, preceded by two months of torturous anticipation.

Leo was gifted to me when I was in college. I was barely an adult, and suddenly I was responsible not just for myself, but for him as well.

It was the best gift I’ve ever received.

After the initial fear of Did I do the right thing? shook out of my body, we quickly found our rhythm. That very first night, I fell asleep on the couch and woke up with Leo curled up on my chest.

He would spend the next 15 years growing with me. Through love and heartbreak. He moved eight times with me. Lived in nine different places.

And what hurts the most is realizing, looking back, that none of those places ever mattered to him. He just wanted to be with us.

There was never a day in Leo’s life that he didn’t appreciate the love he received. And yet, I’m gutted thinking I could’ve done more. That there were times I wasn’t fully present. That he might’ve felt lonely.

They say anticipation is the worst part. And believe me, it was. The pain of knowing he wasn’t okay. Of wondering how much is too much to spend on treatment. And the final, brutal realization: it was time.

I have a million amazing memories of our time together. But the one that won’t let me go is from a year ago.

I refused to not be by his side until the very end. As they anesthetized him for the final time, I still remember his motionless weight on my lap. His eyes were open. He was still there—for one last moment—feeling our love.

And yet, the pain of making that decision still haunts me.

It is possible to love again, as I’ll talk about tomorrow. But in that moment, I truly didn’t think I could ever put myself through it again.

The pain of losing a pet isn’t greater or lesser than that of a friend or family member. But it’s different.

As an adult, you begin to grasp how absurdly short their lives are. How unfair it feels that creatures this pure, who desire nothing but love and a safe home, are only with us for such a short time.

If I could ask for any do-over in this life, it would be this: To love Leo just a little more each day.

To show him, without a doubt, that he was never alone.

And to thank him one more time for making our lives exponentially better.