Dear Buddha,

I love you, and I miss you.

You were the face of the family, the heart and soul of our home. I like to think I said all I could to you in life, but continue to do so in my prayers. Even if you couldn’t understand my words, I know you understood my love.

Everyone who met you was infatuated with you. Not a dog on the planet looked much like you, my favorite ewok. You were one of a kind, a freak of nature, and that’s why you were the perfect fit to join our household.

You taught my siblings and I responsibility and galvanized our dysfunctional house around you. I regret every complaint I ever made in regard to caring for you. I would take you on an endless walk if I could see you once more. I’d let you sniff every blade of grass, and piss on every feature in sight. I would take you to the woods and the beach and pick every tick out of your shaggy coat. I’d let you lick my arms until the hairs burned off from friction. I would never take a single moment for granted.

I’ll forever miss you being the first to greet me at the door, along with your sister. You always made coming home exciting, and few things made me feel more appreciated than waking up to you at the bottom of the stairs. Your fuzzy head was the first thing I’d touch every morning (if you were awake before Mila).

Bones and tennis balls were one thing for you, but those plastic bottles never stood a chance against your wrath. I thank God that I took so many pictures and videos of you, and yet it aches me now to see them pop up daily.

Buddha was a perfect name or you, chosen by those who introduced us to you. Every day before school I’d rub the belly of our little (actual) Buddha statue before rubbing yours. I made sure it was the last thing I did before I left, and would gladly miss the bus to make sure it happened.

Luckily, once I moved away, I spent every visit home as if it could be the last time I saw you. That is the only thing that staves off any sense of unredeemable regret. And yet, there was no preparing for this.
My heart is shattered. I’ve never had to grieve this much, and I’m thankful for that, but the tears fall in gallons when I think about you. I was crying on my walks, crying in the car, just trying to accept it. In time I hope to compose myself better.

Your passing has filled me with an intense ambition to live up to your memory, to live in honor of that which you provided for this family and beyond. It feels like the only response to your absence (and to those who passed before you). If a creature as beautiful and full of love as you could live and die in such a short time, and so selflessly, I could be doing a lot better with my years on this Earth. Until that ends, and we are reunited once more, I will refuse to be anything close to the loser I feel like I have been thus far. I’m sorry for any meaningful experiences we failed to give you.

I wanted to write a poem about you, and still may, but a letter feels more comprehensive in the first weeks since you left. I’m already working on a song. I have to get this out somewhere and fast. Soon I will dedicate a tattoo to you, as well, on the day of our brother’s engagement party.

Thank you for everything, Buddha. Thank you for your life. Thank you for brightening mine, and those of all who were blessed to meet you. I will think of you always. We’ll continue to chase Mila around for you.

Love, your (favorite) brother. Ha.