Goodbye, Brewster. Hello grief.

Our dog Brewster died this week. He was a rescue, so we guess he was about 14 or 15 years old. He was Jude’s birthday present when he turned 7 and they quickly became inseparable, best friends. I’ve never lost a dog before. He and Buddy are the first dogs I’ve ever had, and Brewster’s absence has been suffocating so far. He was always a shadow, following all of us around the house and checking in on each of us during the night while we slept. He would meet me at the front door with one of his stuffed animals in his mouth every day when I got home, a comforting gesture that has gotten me through this past year with Robby being gone.

Luckily Brewster was not sick long. It started that same morning he died—he was having a hard time standing up after sleeping so I assumed he was starting to get a little arthritis and once we got him some medicine he would be fine. I went to work and the kids checked in on him throughout the day and let me know he seemed OK, but just tired. When I got home that evening, he was laying by the front door, which was unusual for him. I said his name, he looked up and kind of gave me a smile and then that was it. His eyes glazed over and he never really woke up again. It’s like he was waiting for me to get home and say goodbye.

Veronica helped me track down the emergency vet and then Jude scooped him up and carried him to the car. We drove him over to the animal hospital, but he was pretty much gone by the time we got there. The doctor said his stomach was full of blood and he would most likely end up suffering like that all night until he passed on his own. Veronica made the decision to not watch, so Jude and I held each other and cried as we said goodbye to Brewster one last time, knowing he was already on his way to Robby.

I’m usually pretty good at allowing myself to be sad for a while and then shaking it off and moving forward, but I’m having a really hard time already. I kept thinking I needed to call Robby and tell him about Brewster. And then I’d catch myself and be like, WTF? I haven’t thought about calling Robby in a long time. I wake up in the morning and have to remind myself Brewster is not waiting on me to get up and take him outside. And now I’m back to having to remind myself that Robby isn’t here either.

The holidays are coming up and not having Robby here for the holidays is really hard. I feel like last year I was on autopilot so I could just keep moving through the motions, but this time around, I’m just having a really hard time and going through the motions is just not happening yet.

And I guess it’s because this is the first really bad family crisis we’ve had since Robby died and he’s not here to make things better. The kids have been great and have tried to help me, but I just feel like something is missing. And I finally realized this morning that the something that is missing is that big Robby hug that makes everything better, even when you’re still really sad. Not having him here to talk to is one of the hardest parts of every day. Having so much to tell him and just having to sit and talk to myself like a crazy person, hoping Robby can hear me. And sometimes I can hear him answer back and say, “Everything is going to be OK. You got this.” And I usually answer back, “I know. I just hate this so much.”