For Freyja

There are some souls
too soft for this world,
too gentle for the weight
they are asked to carry.
Freyja was one of them.
A five-year-old Great Dane
with the heart of something ancient,
the softness of a whisper,
and the quiet gift
of making every room feel kinder
just by being in it.

She was my shadow,
my Velcro girl,
always close enough
that I could feel her love
before I even looked down.

She did not need to be loud
to be understood.
Her eyes said everything.
Her leaning body said,
“I am here.”
Her great, gentle presence said,
“You are not alone.”

She brought joy
in the simplest ways.
A nudge.
A sigh.
A paw placed gently beside me.
The soft weight of her loyalty
pressed against my life
like it had always belonged there.

And it did.

I do not know how a heart
is meant to make room
for a love this big
and then survive the leaving.

But I do know this:

Freyja was loved.
Completely.
Deeply.
Every day.

And she loved back
with everything she had.

My beautiful, gentle girl,
thank you for choosing me,
for following me,
for staying so close,
for filling my life
with softness, loyalty,
and a love I will carry
for the rest of mine.

Run free, my sweet Freyja.

You were never just a dog.
You were family.
You were joy.
You were love
with four paws
and the gentlest soul
I have ever known.