About the Moment of Death

Death is not scary.  The actual moment of death really is no different from falling asleep, even though that's not what we're supposed to tell kids about death, as it may confuse them about the permanency of death.  And yet... for believers, death really isn't permanent at all, is it?  It's a birth into eternal life. 

 

Three weeks ago, we had to euthenize our dog.  That day marked the end of a 9 year era for us as "pet parents".  Our dog, Bigosia, got very sick very quickly, and we didn't have much time to process what was happening or what we ought to do.  The day we had her xrays done to confirm a large growth that had been interfering with her eating and breathing, we knew that one way or another, we had to make a decision quickly, within the week.  We couldn't make her suffer any longer.

All four of us were there with her as she passed onto the other side.  I remember petting her on the bridge of her nose, softly encouraging her to lay down, saying "get comfortable, baby".  She was calm.  Just that, she was calm.  No deep penetrating looks trying to tell me something.  No trying to remove herself from the situation.  She was calm.  Peaceful.  Weather she knew her pain was about to be gone for good, I don't know.  But she certainly didn't fear dying.  And she seemed no different to me after the vet confirmed that her heart had stopped beating and she was "gone".  I was so used to seeing her just lying around, keeping to herself.  I'd approach her and pet her at my leisure, and she often wouldn't stir, so this was no different.  

Five years ago, I approach another loved one's deceased body - my best friend Rachel, at her viewing.  It was four days after she died, so I suppose her body had been embalmed.  I noticed several things as I stood over her open casket to say my last goodbye.  One - they really caked on her makeup! Two - she had her hair straight and cut, a newer style to the one I preferred, the one I always image her with - long and curly.  Three - she was not in that casket.  Standing over Rachel's body, I remember realizing that my best friend was being housed in that body, transported in it, but she was not bound to it.  On some gut level, I knew that what made her Rachel was that je ne sais quoi that could only be described as "that which animated her body" - her spirit, her soul.  That realization gave me closure, even though her death was unexpected.

I wasn't present at the exact moment of my great-grandmother's death, but I was there just minutes before, and minutes after.  I had just stepped into the bathroom to wash my hair when she died.  I was drying my hair when I heard my grandmother talking to her mom and, upon not getting a response, starting to wail.  I knew even before she reached the bathroom door to tell me that Babcia Bronia had passed on.  I remember being very calm about it.  Sad, but calm.  Earlier in the day, I watched my great-grandmother as she lay on her bed in the large kitchen, where she had been living to ease getting to and from the one bathroom in the house.  She was on her back, and she was stretching out her arms above her, with a gentle grin on her face.  She was clearly reaching towards something - or someone - that only she could see.  As soon as I knew she had died, I knew that she had known she was dying.  Not in the prolonged illness, my time is approaching kind of way, but in the "that's my name, gotta go!" kind of way.  She was a devoted Catholic, and she died on the 8th of September, Mary's birthday.  So we suspect that she was reaching out to the birthday girl, ehem, Queen of Heaven, thrilled to have been called home on such a day.

In the hour or so following her death, before the funeral home people came to take her body, I helped my grandmother and grandfather dress her in the funeral clothes Babcia Bronia had picked out for herself ahead of time.  Before she died, her daughter/my grandmother had shown me the neatly folded outfit in her dresser.  Babcia Bronia had packed for a trip, essentially!  She packed light - she only wanted to wear a black dress with white ruffles.  She knew she didn't need anything else.  Anyway, the three of us liften her into a seating position to take off her nightgown and put on her funeral dress.  I will never forget the shock I felt when she sat up.  A gaspy noise came out of her mouth.  For a split second, I thought she was back!  Later I'd learn that it's normal for the last remnants of air to escape from the body after death, thereby making sounds.  In fact, when we were preparing for our beloved dog Bigosia's "big moment", the vet also mentioned the possibility of some unexpected - well, she actually mentioned liquids coming out, but luckily no such thing happened.

And so I'm back to my original observation.  Death itself is nothing to fear.  Instead, it's all the trauma that often leads up to death that can be scary, painful, and confusing.  And of course, the loss and grief that is felt by the loved ones left behind is the other unpleasant aspect of death.  But the actual moment of death?  Nah, that's just a transition.

If Dogs Could Preach... part 5 (God's unconditional love)

Recently, one of our dogs - the troublemaker - got into a garbage bag where there were chicken bones.  Please note - we did NOT give him the bones, we do know better!  When Alex saw him, he of course gave the command to drop it, which had the opposite effect on Hunter, who began to gulp it down even quicker to make sure Alex didn't take the precious, forbidden treat away. 

We quickly realized that there was something wrong when Hunter started acting erratically, scratching at his mouth with his paw, which was bloody.  At first, we couldn't figure out what was bleeding - the paw or the mouth.  When we realized that we couldn't risk getting bitten by putting our hand in his mouth to try to remove the bone, we put his muzzle on him and Alex rushed him to the veterinary hospital.

Everything happened so quickly, within 5 minutes they were out the door.  But in that time period, I managed to be angry at Hunter for costing us an unknown amount in hospital bills while at the same time being scared that he may not make it.  At this point, we weren't sure if he was choking or what.

As it turned out, he got the bone stuck behind his upper hind teeth, so he was definitely in pain (he was bleeding, after all), but not in imminent danger.  The hospital staff made him wait as they tended to real emergencies.  He ended up needing anesthesia in order to allow the vet to remove the bone.  While he was under, he got a complimentary pedicure, so that was good.

When Alex finally returned with Hunter after 3 hours, we were both relieved.  The bill wasn't as bad as it could've been: $200.  And most importantly, Hunter was ok.  He gets on our last nerve pretty much on a weekly basis, but this episode made us realize that we love him anyway, he's part of the family, and we'll just have to accept that he comes with drama and trouble.

While I was praying to St. Francis of Assisi to intercede and help Hunter, I realized that we are so often just like Hunter.  We sneak things we're not supposed to do, and when we're reprimanded, we get even more adamant about having our way, until we finally get hurt.  Even as God tries to help us, we resist, not realizing what is good for us.  Yet how awesome to think that just like we put up with Hunter, God puts up with us.  He loves us even though He'd much rather we didn't bring so much drama and trouble everywhere we go!
 

If Dogs Could Preach... part 4

Sometimes the most mundane tasks can teach the most profound lessons.  Let’s take poop for instance.  That’s right, I said it.  Poop.  No one wants to talk about it because it’s gross, stinky, and embarrassing.  Yet it is part of life.  Doctors need to know about a patient’s poop when making certain diagnoses or providing certain treatment.  Parents seem to think nothing of comparing their children’s poop as a matter of course.  And then there’s pet owners.

One of my dogs is quite finicky when it comes to her #2.  She will only go on a walk, not in the backyard, unless we’ve been very bad and haven’t walked her for a couple of days.  And what’s more, she has in her mind a certain spot (I guess) or a certain amount of time or walking she needs to get done before she is ready to go.

Yet, as a responsible dog owner, I don’t leave the house without “the pooper-scooper”.  Therefore, no matter how far from home my dog poops, I still have to pick it up and carry it back, so as to dispose of it properly (you know, where poop belongs – in the toilet).

The other day, I was stricken by how similar poop is to sin.  Sin is another subject no one wants to talk about.  Lots of people like to commit sin, but they just don’t like to admit that that’s what they’re doing.  Regardless, no matter how much we try to disassociate our actions from the definition of sin (turning away from God/disobeying Him), God is always there to pick up the pieces and dispose of them properly.  He forgives, even though He’d much prefer that we obey than repent.

I’m sure sometimes He also scratches His head and wonders if we really believe that we are fooling Him, when we go out of our way to hide our sin.  He knows it’s there, and He knows where it belongs.  Maybe we can do Him a favor and at least quit trying to keep it from Him.  We may be embarrassed by our sin, but He isn’t.  He’s saddened by it, but as long as we live in this fallen world, we will sin.  And dogs will poop.  It is what it is.  Just clean it up and move on.  

If dogs could preach... Part 3 (accepting God's timing)

When crossing a street, it’s prudent to look both ways first.  As adults, we know that this is so that we don’t get hit by oncoming traffic.  We normally do not see this as an inconvenience, yet children and dogs seem to disagree.  They want to be where we’re going NOW!

When walking my two dogs, Hunter and Bigos, we often come to a cross section where there’s a bit more traffic.  It’s a wide road, with cars coming from three directions, around the corner, and often speeding.  Depending on my peripheral vision is not enough; I have to pause long enough to truly assess that there is no danger to me or the dogs before we proceed.  Except they don’t seem to understand that. 

I say “stay”, and I need to keep repeating the command until we can proceed.  I wonder what they’re thinking as we stand there for seemingly no reason.  Do they wonder if they’re being punished?  Do they think that maybe I forgot where we were headed?  And when one car passes, and I don’t immediately proceed, do they bemoan why they have to let 5 cars pass today, when yesterday they only had to let 1 car pass?

Sounds silly?  But don’t we do the same thing?  When we come to a fork in the road, how many times do we want to just jump in and keep moving, but we are being held back and forced to wait it out?  As we notice having dodged one bullet, do we eagerly anticipate moving on right away, and do we get confused when we need to keep waiting even after the second, third, fourth challenge is overcome?  Maybe sometimes we feel like just turning around and walking back, rather than continuing to wait for a time unknown to us?

As Alex and I have journeyed towards parenthood over the last 6 years, I have often felt like my dogs probably feel when we wait at that corner.  At first, I didn’t understand why we had to wait at all.  Having children is a good thing, so why would we have to wait to have them?  Then, as we experienced 4 birthmothers changing their minds, I reflected on all the things we learned through those experiences, things we never would’ve learned any other way.  “Aha!” I think, “that’s why we had to wait, to learn those lessons.  Ok, great, NOW we’re going to be parents.”  But alas, two more years go by, and even more challenging obstacles come our way, and at each interval, I think the same thing: “Now, God will decide that we are ready.” 

I don’t know why we’ve been asked to wait for so long.  I don’t know how many more figurative cars have to pass before we are allowed to cross to the side of parenthood.  For all I know, though, we may have timed our journey during a parade, and perhaps we should set up folding chairs and, for the time being, forget about crossing and instead enjoy watching the floats go by?

If dogs could preach... Part 2 (accepting God's will)

When walking two dogs, it is imperative to keep each on its own side.  I don’t assign sides based on the dog’s sex or coloring, it just has to be consistent throughout the walk.  Next time, they may switch places, but for the duration of this walk, as long as I have their leashes wrapped around my hands, they need to stay on their assigned side.  The trail varies.  Sometimes, the grass is on Hunter’s side while Bigos has to pass by cars.  Other times, the roles are reversed.  Still other times, we take a leisurely break on a large patch of grass where they can both sniff to their hearts’ content and frolic about (as Hunter often does). 

Yet for some reason, they always seem to think that the other dog got the better deal.  They try to cross over in front of me, either getting kicked in the head in the process (since I’m still walking straight ahead, and they don’t look where they’re going), or they keep getting pulled back and yelled at.

It was on one such walk that I thought about how similarly we humans behave.  God gave us a specific side of the road to stick to, simply for the sake of easing His being able to manage us safely and effectively.  After all, He is leading us; without Him, we’d be stray dogs on the street.  So why do we seem to think that the grass is always greener on the other side?  And why do we get upset when we get kicked when trying to push our way to where we think we ought to be?  “God doesn’t love me”, “God doesn’t care”, “It’s not fair that I have to be on this side while my spouse/friend/neighbor gets to be on the other side”.  Seriously, it would do us some good to realize that we are not the only ones having this sort of complaint.  Others look at our life and wish they were in our shoes.  How much simpler life would be if we just turned ourselves over to God?  He really does know what He’s doing.

If dogs could preach... Part 1 (resisting God)

Most dog lovers would agree that walking a dog that pulls is no fun.  For me, it guarantees that the walk will be cut short.  Refusing to heel, the dog who pulls doesn’t accept their walker’s authority to determine the course of the walk.  As a result, the dog chokes itself on its collar, is frustrated by repeatedly being forcefully pulled away from what it was pursuing, and finds itself back home long before it would’ve wanted to return.

But such are the consequences of not trusting that your walker knows where to go to provide the best sniffing trails, sufficient exercise, lots of fresh air, and all the while keeping you safe.  The most well-behaved and trusted dogs are even let off-leash because they understand what is expected of them and they know their owner will not lead them astray.

We could learn a thing or two from dogs.  How many of us spend much of our time pulling forcefully in various directions without first checking with God to see where He’d have us walk?  Surely He knows better where we should and shouldn’t go to enjoy a relatively stress-free leisurely walk.  But if we refuse to obey when God IS trying to lead us, what makes us think He’ll continue to lead us?  He wants to enjoy the walk with us, but He won’t keep leading us against our will.  The natural consequence is that we get left behind.  We can bark and shout all we want, but without a proven obedient walk, we haven’t earned the right to being led by God.  And without God walking us, the best we can do is look out the window and live vicariously through others.

So when God says “heel”, we better do what He says, and enjoy the walk.  Otherwise we’ll get left behind.

Our two furry kids.