goodnight sweet prince.

No one really prepares you for loss. I think it’s almost always discussed and felt in the air but no one truly knows how it feels until you’re in the moment. 

The emptiness inside of you. The purposelessness engraved in your mind. And the shadow of memories far too gone.

That’s how I felt when I lost my best friend. 

As human beings, heck any being in this world, we aren’t meant for loss. We are meant for happiness and love so it is no wonder why loss hits us so hard. But it is also the circle of life; to gain life we must also lose it.

This post is about my best friend, Brady. 

And this is his story of becoming our family’s guardian angel.

There once was a time two years ago in 2020 that we thought it was his time. My parents woke my sister and I up early in the morning telling us they were taking Brady to the vet because he couldn’t get up. He was lethargic, almost like what you would imagine a drunk dog to look like but much sadder. He couldn’t keep his eyes open and his legs were too weak for him to stand. We said our goodbyes and watched them put him in the car thinking it was our last time seeing him.

But then we got a text. He was okay.

It was just vertigo. And it would pass, they said. Which it did and he got better. 

In the chaos of our world and jumping to what was happening in my own life, the pandemic had just hit. I had plans to go to San Diego State. But then I didn’t. And it was around this time that I figured out I was going to go to California with my family and do two years in community college. It was the opposite of what I dreamed of and what I wanted at the time, but it had to and did happen. 

We also got two more years with Brady. 

He grew older and more tired everyday but he made the journey with us to California and lived with us in Folsom till this past New Year.

That brings us to Christmas 2021.

Well, even before then, actually. 

My family took a trip to Costa Rica over Thanksgiving break and my grandparents watched Brady for us. Every time we left him for even just a day, he always needed someone to be with him 24/ 7. That was the thing about Brady, he was such a big and important part of our family that if no was ever home, he would have literal anxiety attacks. One time when we lived in Texas, we left him in the backyard and he actually chewed through the fence while we were out at dinner. 

At the end of his life, especially the last two years, there was always this overseeing thought and pressure on keeping him alive. It was obvious he was on the brink of passing. But we kept telling him to hold on. 

Which he did.

First it was “please make it past Thanksgiving” then it was Christmas and the New Year. Which he beat every time. I began to think he was invincible. He was the last pup out of his litter alive and at fifteen years old, I thought nothing could break him.

But January was a different story. 

We had been preparing for it those past two months but nothing felt like the week before. When I say we were preparing for it, we were actually trying to figure out what day we would put him down. But of course he had his good days and his bad days. They would be better and then there were days that they were not; it was like a rollercoaster of progression.

It got to the point where he would not eat anything but rice and the next day by some miracle he would eat his kibble. It got to the point where he wouldn’t drink any water unless it came from a pitcher we used for the plants outside or from the base of our umbrella in the backyard. It was very sad to watch.

And then it just stopped.

The day, no, the moment we knew it was time, I was with him. 

I took him out to go to the bathroom on the side yard and he was having trouble walking. I watched as he stumbled and dragged his feet against the rocks trying to get to the back door. Before making it to the concrete patio though, he fell. Not just a trip, but a full on fall where he couldn’t get up. And he looked at me with his eyes. Those same puppy eyes he’d had since since he was young and it broke me.

I couldn’t pick him up. Usually I would take him in and out of the car for appointments or trips if my dad wasn’t there, but this time I couldn’t. It was like his whole weight was grounded to the Earth. 

So I called for my dad who picked him up and laid him on the grass. We both thought that was where he was going to go. I held onto him, telling him it was okay. We were going to be okay and that he could go. 

But he didn’t. 

In that same parallel world discussed earlier, my mom’s work was having a Covid outbreak which meant everyone was sent home and had to be isolated till the next week. 

It was like he was waiting.

The next day we had decided was the day. He wasn’t himself. In truth, he hadn’t been himself for a long time but it had hit a breaking point. There’s a time when you can no longer be selfish and instead think truly about what is best for your friend. For Brady, it was his time.

As a pet owner, your pet isn’t just a pet, they are a friend; family. We had been picking over the idea that we were going to lose him for months whether it be from natural causes or if we had to do something. On that day, we were still struggling with the idea. But on that day, it was his time. 

He laid around until the appointment (which feels very inhumane to say), not getting up to go to the bathroom or to eat or drink. And when we brought him to the vet, he could barely stand. We were basically holding him the entire way. 

That is when we knew. In a way, we didn’t have to make the decision. It was him who was telling us, letting us know he was ready. We simply just gave him permission, the very thing he was waiting for. 

It was a rough hour, day, week, month after. None of us have really recovered, but it has gotten better. 

But what really has given me clarity and peace with the situation was his message to me and my sister. 

Brady was fifteen years old when he passed. Mackenzie and I were four years old when we got him, the spring before going into Kindergarten. He lived through our first day in grade school to our last; Senior year of high school and two years beyond that. 

The idea that he probably could have passed two years ago when I was going away to college after having him for thirteen years of my life, pretty much the entire life I had known, has haunted me. But he didn’t. He stayed. And now my sister and I are moving this summer for university away from home and our parents… it’s like he knew. On his last day he spoke to me saying “it’s ok, it is my time to go, I have raised you and now you must fly too.” That is what Brady told me. 

He left us with our cat who we are moving with us. That had been the plan since we decided we would go to community college in California two years ago. But I can’t help but think that it was Brady who introduced that idea in our heads.

Our cat felt the loss too. They were practically best friends. You know those cute videos you see on social media of a cat and dog cuddling up, loving on each other. That was Brady and Jessie. 

Sometimes when I look into her eyes or watch her roll around in the places he used to lay, I can still see her pain. But she has helped us recover, not just me and my sister, but my entire family. We all needed each other after he passed and that included her too. 

Brady spoke to her before passing. He told her “it is now your job to take care of them.” And she knows that. Her attachment, compassion and comforting of each of the members of our family has grown and it is obvious. What a privilege that Brady left us in her hands. 

To be honest, the pain I felt is what I expected to feel about a human being, not an animal. But I guess it makes sense since I am also the one to cry more when animals passed in movies compared to humans. I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. But it did and has still been painful. I think its a reflection of the love Brady had for life; his life. Being vulnerable here, I have cried writing this post. And editing it too.

At the end of it all, Brady has given the greatest gift I have ever been given. He not only gave me my own sense of compassion and nurturement, but he has also given me peace and clarity. I have never felt more inspired in my life until this point. I know what I am doing with my life, for at least right now, and if not for my own sake, I do it all for him. He has reminded me that growing up, loss and gain are all part of the process; of this thing we call life. He truly showed me what love feels like and how it should be received. And he has told me that I am ready to be grown. He was the embodiment of all the good in this world. How do you move on knowing that that is all gone?

I am not healed. I never will be. At least for a long time. Grieving takes time, but that is the beauty of it. It is part of the steps to be taken to move on and grow up. Andrew Garfield said it best about grieving the loss of his mother: “I hope this grief stays with me because it’s all the unexpressed love that I didn’t get to tell her,” “And I told her every day. We all told her every day. She was the best of us.”

Grieving isn’t something to be sad, but something to be treasured because it is absolutely beautiful to miss and love something so much to continue to think of it even after it is gone. 

I told Brady everyday that I loved him. I told him everyday that I was there with him. I made sure he was never alone. And deep down, I know he knew that. That’s why he never liked being by himself because he loved being surrounded by people so much. I may be biased and naive since I am only 19 and he was my dog, but I don’t know if anyone and anything will ever be loved as much as Brady was. I can only pray to be deserving of the love Brady received. And that’s what I find so special about Brady’s story. He was all the good in the world. And his passing has only passed that purpose onto me and everyone he ever met; for god knows I would be lucky to do it half as good as he did. 

So I close this post out with not a goodbye, but a see you later because I know that is what Brady would have said if he could speak. 

Goodnight sweet prince. I hope your life was just as beautiful as you made ours.