I’m sorry in advance, mates. This is a bit of a sad letter. If you’re feeling sad yourself, feel free to skip it. (Also: I just couldn’t record the audio to this one. Thanks for understanding. 💚)
When I decided to focus this term’s writing on letting go, I didn’t expect this. But then again, we rarely do, do we?
We said goodbye to our good boy Cash yesterday. He was nearly 12. He loved cheese (with a particular passion for big chunks of brie, stolen right from the cheeseboard), pizza crust, walks and curling up under my desk while I worked. All three of my books were written with him by my side and when I spent many weeks unwell over the past few years, he was right there, snuggling into me while I rested. He grew up alongside the kids, who don’t remember life without him. He’s been with us through the best of it, and the worst. We were so lucky to have him.
Earlier this year we found out that his heart was failing, and his wonderful vet, Chris, worked to give us months of extra time — extra snuggles, extra walks, extra zoomies with his brother Joey — for which we’ll always be grateful.
The hardest part of letting go was the actual letting go. The admission that holding on would have been for us and not him. How lucky to have been taught that lesson by such a good boy.
I’m going to miss my little mate so much.
I don’t know if dogs hold a similar, soulful energy to humans, the kind of energy that is said to inhabit the world even once our bodies are gone, but what I do know is that their joy in life is a reminder to delight in the tiny moments — a minute laying in the sun, a delicious piece of cheese, a cuddle on the lounge — a call to show up, to the best of our ability, in all parts of life. To not shy away from loving simply for the pain it can cause us.
Because, as they say, grief is the cost of love. And it’s a price I’m glad to pay, even on the days it hurts so much.
It’s always worth it, to have loved. To be loved. To love.
I’m off to lay in the sun for a minute, just like Cash would have. Sending you love.
Brooke xx
Oh Brooke. I am sending you so much love. This kind of heartache is a force unto itself. ❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
Rest in play, sweet Cash. 🌈🌈🌈
Oh. Brooke. The choosing the time to let go, I hear ya. The hardest and the most right decision. I don’t know if our dogs’ energy inhabits the world once their bodies are gone, but I do know that the love they shared with us lives on in our heart, and in all our treasured memories of them. Blessing you with courage and comfort for all the moments precious Cash is not where you expect him to be: in the sun, on the couch, on your feet, at the door when you come home. May your heart heal to the point where all you feel is all that unconditional love.