Meet Micah. His dog, Biscuit, was old and sick, and this week he died. Now the water bowl by the door is still full, and the spot at the foot of Micah's bed is empty. Auntie Nia sits down beside him, not to make the sad go away, but to show him something true: love doesn't leave. We learn to carry it.
The storyteller reads to you. Just tap the big button.
Auntie Nia isn't here to make the sad go away. She's here to sit with Micah, and with you, the whole way through.
Word Power
Tap each word. Then, if you want, say one out loud.
Now YOU say it: “I remember you… and I carry you with me.”
You can just say it out loud, soft as you like. No need to record.
Your Story
Sit with each part, at your own pace. 0/9
Micah & the Empty Bowl
Read the scene. Take your time. There's no wrong way to miss someone.
Part 1
The Empty Bowl
The house is quiet. Biscuit's water bowl by the back door is still full. His spot at the foot of Micah's bed is empty. Biscuit was old and sick, and this week he died. He isn't coming back. Micah's chest feels heavy, like a stone is sitting on it. He doesn't know what to do with a feeling this big.
Auntie Nia says: You don't have to do anything with it yet, baby. First we just let the feeling be here. Tap to see what Micah might be feeling: there's no wrong one.
What might Micah be feeling?
Say it: “There's no wrong way to miss someone.”
Part 2
Where the Sad Sits
Big feelings don't just live in your head. They live in your body. If Micah gets quiet and pays attention, he can feel exactly where the sad is sitting.
Auntie Nia says: Let's find it. Big feelings are easier to hold once you know where they're hiding. Tap where Micah might feel it.
Where might Micah feel it?
Say it: “My body knows I'm missing someone.”
Part 3
Breathe Like the Tide
The sad comes in waves. One minute Micah is okay. The next, a wave rises up and his eyes sting. Auntie Nia doesn't tell him to stop. She teaches him to ride the wave, with his breath.
Auntie Nia says: Breathe with me, little one. In slow through your nose… now let it go even slower, out through your mouth, long as the tide going out. We don't push the wave away. We just breathe until it settles.
Ride the wave with Micah
Say it: “Grief comes in waves. I can breathe through them.”
Part 4
Say It Like a Metaphor
“A feeling this big is hard to say straight out,” says Auntie Nia. “So we give it a shape. That's a metaphor: when we say a feeling is, or is like, something else, so a big feeling gets something we can hold.”
Auntie Nia says: Let's make a metaphor for how the missing feels. Fill in the blank: My sad is like ___. Tap the one that fits today: you can't get it wrong.
My sad is like…
Say it: “I can give a big feeling a shape.”
Part 5
The Memory Keepsake
“Here's the tool that keeps the love,” says Auntie Nia. “A memory. But a memory holds best when you build it whole: a beginning, a middle, and the favorite part you'll keep forever. Let's build one about Biscuit, together, in order.”
Auntie Nia says: Tap the pieces into place: first the beginning, then the middle, then your favorite part. We're writing a little story you get to keep.
Build the memory in order
Beginning
Middle
Favorite part
Say it: “I built a memory to keep.”
Part 6
Love Changes Shape
“Now the biggest truth of all,” says Auntie Nia, soft. “When someone you love is gone, the love doesn't disappear with them. It doesn't leave you. It just changes shape.” She's said a lot of goodbyes in her long life, and she's still full of love.
Auntie Nia says: Everybody who loves, loses somebody someday, even grown-ups, even me. It's the hardest part of loving. Tap each one and hear how love changes shape.
How does love change shape?
Say it: “Love doesn't leave. It changes shape.”
Part 7
The Hard Day
A few days later, at the park, Micah passes the hill where he used to walk Biscuit. WHOOSH. A grief wave rises up out of nowhere, and his eyes sting right in front of everybody. A voice inside says, “Don't you dare cry here. Push it down. Handle it alone.” What should Micah do?
Auntie Nia says: This is a hard one, baby. A wave came when you didn't choose it. You know what steadies a wave. Pick the move you'd be proud of.
Choose Micah's move
Part 8
Carry It With You
Micah doesn't stop missing Biscuit. He probably never fully will, and that's okay; the missing is just the love, still here. But now he knows what to do with it. He keeps a small box: Biscuit's tag, a photo, the leash. On hard days he walks the long way, past the big oak. The stone in his chest is still there sometimes, but he can carry it now.
Auntie Nia says: Look at everything you learned to carry, little one. Tap the carry receipts.
Tap the carry receipts
Say it: “The missing is the love, still here, and I can carry it.”
Part 9
Sit With the Next Kid
A couple of weeks later, Micah's friend Dre comes to school with red eyes and won't talk. Word gets around: Dre's grandmother died over the weekend. Micah knows that heavy-stone feeling: it was his, not long ago. He knows there are no magic words. But he knows how to sit with somebody. He walks over.
Auntie Nia says: This is the tenderest part of learning to carry a loss: helping somebody else carry theirs. Pick what Micah says. You can't get this wrong.
Pick what Micah says
Say it: “I can sit with someone who's hurting.”
Story complete
💛 You sat all the way through the hard and the tender with Micah and Auntie Nia. You learned how to name a big feeling, keep a memory, and carry a love that doesn't leave. You earned your Keep-the-Love badge.
And here's the truest thing: this isn't only for a pet. It's for a grandma, a friend who moved far away, a home you had to leave behind. Any time you have to say goodbye: you can name it, breathe through the wave, remember, and carry the love with you. Loss is big because your love is big.
One more time, soft or strong: “I remember you… and I carry you with me.”
You can just say it out loud, soft as you like. No need to record.
Tell a grown-up: ask me what it means to carry someone.
For Parents, Caregivers & Helpers
What this builds (transformative SEL): Identity (“Who I am”) with a thread of Agency (“I can do it”).
This is a gentle story about the loss of a pet, often a child's first experience of death. It is designed to be grounded and non-prescriptive: it never promises the sadness will go away, never rushes a child toward “closure,” and treats missing someone as love, not as a problem to fix. The child learns to name a big feeling, build and keep a memory, and carry a love that doesn't leave.
Plain words, on purpose
Auntie Nia uses “died,” “gone,” “not coming back”, not “went to sleep,” “we lost him,” or “passed.” Young children take softer phrases literally, which can make death feel confusing or reversible. The words are plain; the handling is soft.
There is no timeline, and no “right” way
Feelings are offered, never assigned. Tears and not-crying are both honored. The resolution is carrying the love, not feeling better or “moving on.” Follow your child's pace; they can pause and return any time.
When grief needs a real helper
This is a practice tool, not therapy. Some grief needs more than a story. If a child's grief stays stuck, changes their eating, sleeping, or school, or turns to hopelessness or self-blame, reach out to a counselor, school social worker, or a children's grief service. You know your child best.
This is a practice tool for rehearsing skills, not therapy, counseling, or a clinical service.
Nothing is saved to a server and nothing is sent anywhere. If you record your voice for the “say it” moment, the recording lives only in this moment on the device: it is never saved, never uploaded, and it is gone when the page closes. Recording and playback are always optional; the story never waits on them. The read-aloud narration uses a recorded storyteller voice and only reads the story, never you.
This is a practice tool for rehearsing skills, not therapy, counseling, or a clinical service.