One Hard Goodbye

 

            Thank you all so much for sending sweet comments, texts, cards, and calls over the past few days as we have walked yet another hard road together as a couple. I’ve had a lot of questions about Braeya and wanted to offer a memorial post to her life, so today is that day.

            We’ll start at the end and move backwards. Right about a year ago, Ryan and I thought that she had come to the end of her days. We prepared ourselves to say goodbye, and then she rallied, and we celebrated and moved forward with life. Months went by, she turned 18, and we thought she might just live forever!

            We noticed that while she’s been “slowing down” for a while, she seemed to be declining more rapidly over the past few weeks, and we knew we probably would have to say goodbye soon. At 18 and a half, we knew we could only be grateful for the extraordinary life she’d lived and not demand from her what was beyond reasonable for her to offer. My prayer for her was that she would either go quietly in her sleep when the time came or that we would know if something was very wrong.

            And we knew. We knew when we woke up Friday morning that the end was here, and it was time. It feels important to honor her little feline dignity to not spill all the details, but we knew, so we prepared ourselves - albeit quickly - for goodbye.

            Lexi told her goodbye, and that undid me right here in our kitchen. We took Braeya to the vet, who was beyond compassionate and assured us that she had lived a remarkable life. He was blown away by her age and said it was clear we had loved and cared for her well to get her to this age. She reached our her paws to reassure us as we sobbed, and we held her and spoke words of love to her until the very end. (I did document, but she looked so pitiful, so I’m not posting those pictures to the web.)

            We grieve this loss. Yes, she was “just” a cat, but she was so much more. Those of you who have been reading here long know her full story. I used to have a yellow cat named Kaegan, and when he turned five, I thought his life would be enriched by a baby sister, so I brought home Braeya.

            Kaegan was quick to let me know I had a thousand percent misread his need for a sibling, and he never did truly adore her. He tolerated her, and she busted her way into his life whether he liked it or not.

            I reminded her of this when we gifted her with a little sister named Lexi, and she acted much like Kaegan had.

            I think Braeya lived a bigger life than some people have lived. She enjoyed life in five different houses and treasured things about each of them. No matter the home, she always found a window and looked outside – and she always found a good hiding place, too. Under the bed, in a closet, behind a chair…she always had a little spot just for herself where she could get away for hours on end.

            She greeted our guests, wandered through our Bible studies, supervised the kids who came over, and “helped” with household chores. She judged dogs and occasionally her people, too. She had “the look” down to a science and did not hesitate to use it.

            Kaegan died when Braeya was five, and for the next couple of years, she and I were on our own. We were quite the team, and as soon as Ryan showed up, I was replaced in a hurry as the house favorite. Can’t blame her there.

            But before and after all the other household roommates, Braeya and I walked through many things together. She was with me the night of the Greensburg tornado, when I stayed up watching TV and praying for family. She was with me in the desert loss of love, listening to my deep cries and sleeping next to me on the living room floor night after night after night when I hurt too much to go to bed. She was there when I started dating Ryan and has been part of our life story for just short of the first dozen years of our marriage. She was there when we lost Nita and then Allen. She’s been present for each joy and sorrow. And now we sit in the sorrow of not having her sweet little face in our home anymore.

            Lexi still runs to look for her. Ryan and I still expect to hear her chatting with us throughout the day. It will take a while to get used to this new normal for us.

            Braeya Jo, you were a gift to my life and our family. I am forever thankful that you came to be my girl, and we have hundreds of pictures of our adventures together. Your portrait hangs on our family wall and will continue to do so. We love you so. We miss you dearly. You gave us your best and we hope we gave you a sweet life, little one.

Braeya Jo Shaffer
May 4, 2006 - November 1, 2024