Wednesday, June 18th, 2008
death is never gracefully done.
My childhood dog, named Dakota, died. My sister called me yesterday & gave me the news. I wasn’t very surprised because I knew that his health was deteriorating; he could no longer hear & his bones & muscles were very weak. But still, the news struck me, much more than I’d like to admit. When I had last seen Dakota, I tried to not look at him because I knew that he was dying & it pained me to see him looking so old. I began to think, Soon we all will be old; all of this will be gone. There will be nothing & no one left. My father will die, my mother will die, my sister will die. I will be old & decrepit someday & Lover will be, too. Everything will be gone. Naturally, these thoughts get me so worked up that I don’t like to acknowledge their existence.
Obviously, I try not to think about death or even admit to myself that it is inevitable. I don’t like being confronted with harsh realities. It’s easier to lie, I think, about the complicated things that plague your mind; the things that can’t be answered to easily. Like religion or battered relationships or what it means to be alive, but death is especially hard for me to grasp. I have never handled death in the right way; whatever “the right way” is.
The first funeral I ever went to was when I was 8 years old. I may have been younger, but I can’t remember. It was a close family friend’s son that had passed away from a heart condition; he was only 4 years old, at least. It was an open-casket funeral & the first time I had seen a dead body in real life. I remember my mother whispering to me & my sister, as we clutched onto her, absolutely awestruck, “See, baby, it looks like he’s sleeping, doesn’t it?” Even at that age, I was trying to grasp the concept of Death. To get through that day, I remember telling myself that he was only sleeping, like my mother had said, & that all of this was just a big lie somehow. I’ve been doing that ever since.
When my grandfather died, though, I think that is when I started to realize that this way of thinking wasn’t exactly practical. Because it was obvious that he was gone. Denying that was now very silly to me. I remember “Taps” playing as they buried him in a veteran’s memorial (he served in the Coast Guard). Marines had come out specifically to do salutes, to fold the flag, to escort people inside & out. If that isn’t the epitome of death, tragedy & sadness, I don’t know what is. It was so raw & the mourning was practically tangible. My grandfather’s funeral kept me far away from my own comfortable, “this is all just a dream” kind of La La Land. I knew that I couldn’t remain wrapped up in my twisted thoughts of denial any longer & I remember feeling guilty for not thoroughly acknowledging my his death. As though maybe I was cheating him, somehow.
Now, I am faced with the same cringing emotions & fears, surrounding my dead dog, which makes me think that I still don’t really know how to comprehend death. Even last night, I found myself thinking, It’s not real; Dakota’s just sleeping in a hole, buried underground. He is only sleeping. As an adult, I think this! So it’s very apparent: I don’t think I’ll ever be good at understanding death. I don’t know if death is supposed to be understood, just like life isn’t supposed to be understood. Maybe to understand life (& death) is to devalue it.
Maybe death should be viewed, for me, as brave & peaceful contentment. Dakota’s death signifies the past, my past, being completely gone now. There is nothing left to hold onto, nothing to keep me dwelling in the past anymore. Our close knit family is now completely separated. We are all in different places emotionally. We have all moved on. We will never be the way we were again. We all shared Dakota & loved him as a family. Now that he is gone, there are no ties that bind us together anymore. In a sense, we are [I am] free. & a little relieved.
(The outfit: shirt, Hanes; shorts & shoes, Ross; necklace, my mother’s jewelry box.)
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 10:12 am:
:-( Sorry to hear about Dakota.
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 10:27 am:
I’m so sorry to hear about your puppy. We had to put my puppy, Cinder, down during the spring of my senior year of college - I’d had her since third grade. I still can’t think about her without tearing up.
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 12:48 pm:
Sorry about little Dakota! That was a cute name. :(
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 2:29 pm:
@ Amanda: thanks, love. :] That’s nice of you.
@ Trace: Aww. :[ I’ve had so many pets pass on since I’ve been alive. & even though I have much experience with death in that sense, it never lessens the sad feelings. Sigh.
@ Gooseberried: thanks, honey, but he was FAR from little. I didn’t mention that he was a rather big dog; a pit bull mix. Nevertheless, he was a trooper. He lived for a pretty long time.
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 5:02 pm:
“Maybe to understand life (& death) is to devalue it.” ~ I wholeheartedly concur!
Great Post!
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 6:01 pm:
hi! awwww… i hope you feel better … it will heal in time..
take care,
kyutie
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 10:14 pm:
my childhood dog died a couple years ago too…. it is sad. i’m sorry.
but i have good news~ i found some cute jean shorts and thought of you. i think you already bought some, as did i….but i think you will like these alexander wang-ish looking ones here:
http://www.oaknyc.com/women/new-items/oak-trashed-slouch
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 10:56 pm:
This was really an amazing post, first of all. Beautifully written.
I’m so sorry to hear about your dog- mine’s getting older and I know her time will come sooner rather than later & it really is tough to think about.
I think death is always something extremely difficult to grasp, no matter what age. My friend Kevin died in the beginning of April and I often find myself thinking that he isn’t really gone sometimes. That he’s simply away at school. & something will happen to remind me of him and I’ll think about how I can’t wait to tell him-until it kicks back in that he’s gone. I think it’ll always be difficult for everybody.
on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008 at 11:10 pm:
I’m so sorry for your loss.
I’m still kind of in that La La land when dealing with death, and I’m afraid of the day when I finally get it. I like your idea of death being a final contentment. And your wounds will heal in time. I hope you know that I’m being completely sincere with this.
Stay strong.
on Thursday, June 19th, 2008 at 12:02 pm:
@ Aaron: thanks, friend. :]
@ kyutie: yes, thank you. =] I can honestly say that writing this down has helped tremendously with how I am viewing things now.
@ kate: Oh, those shorts are to die for! But the price makes me think otherwise. I suppose the only practical thing to do is go to the thrift store & purchase old jeans for the purpose of cutting them to shreds. :] Thank you for the idea!
@ sandy: I remember reading about your friend’s passing. (he was the one that died of an overdose, no?) & I remember feeling such sadness because I have personal experience with that tragedy. Thankfully, it didn’t end in tragedy, but my heart went out to you. Thank you for the kind words, love; I appreciate them.
@ Natalie: I know you sincere, my dear & I appreciate your heartfelt words. Thanks. ;]
on Thursday, June 19th, 2008 at 12:47 pm:
Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear about your loss.
on Friday, June 20th, 2008 at 9:14 am:
This was beautifully written, well done, and thank you for voicing these fears I’m sure we all share. The saddest thing that has happened in my life so far is losing my two dogs, within 3 days of each other: one literally couldn’t live without the other. I’m so sorry for your loss, it gets easier with time.
on Friday, June 20th, 2008 at 11:25 am:
@ ashley: thank you for your condolences. :]
@ Marianne: thank you, love. & I sure hope it gets easier with time.