On Death

So today was...well, in the words of my favorite Flynnigan Rider, "I'll spare you the sob story of poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert. It's...well, it's a bit of a downer." The abridged story from today is that we had to put our doggie Sandy down this afternoon. She'd been really sick for a few weeks with lymphoma, and she hadn't been eating. It's amazing how quickly something like that can happen. It was the same with my grandmother. She was fine and good and healthy for almost my whole life, and then suddenly, she wasn't. She died only a few short months later.

What's weird, I guess, is that even though it should be the thing most feared by anyone, I've found that death doesn't scare me. I didn't cry when we found out we were going to have to put Sandy down; I never cried when my grandmother passed away either. And I'm not a brave person. Not at all. Ask anyone who knows me. I shriek when it just thunders outside. If anyone would be the first to cry, it would be me. So why no tears?

I think it comes down to how you really care about the person (or dog). For Sandy and Grand Ann, dying was a release from pain and suffering. I think it is for most people in most cases. And I just don't see what's so horrible about that. I think being depressed (which is normal, of course), is, while natural, also a bit selfish. We're not sad that our friend or family member has left a sinful world; we're sad that they've left us. What's the line that everyone always uses? Something like, "I just can't believe that I'm never going to see him/her again..."

That's wrong, I believe, on two counts:
Firstly, what is upsetting about the fact that we're never going to see someone again? It's that we've grown to need them in our lives, to expect their love and affections. Don't get me wrong. Love and affections are wonderful things. But as Christians, I think sometimes we should allow a little joy and peace that the person whom we've lost, God has gained in his eternal kingdom. Which brings me to my second point:

For Christians, it's not goodbye forever. We WILL see each other again, in more glory and wonder than we could ever imagine. It may be a while, but when we reunite, it will be for eternity. Isn't that a cause for, even admist death, a little rejoicing in the name of the one who conquered death?

I'm not saying we all should be some kind of emotionless, stoic people. Quite to the contrary, I hate stoicism. Probably partially because I suck at it, but also because it's so fake. But I think sometimes we forget that our motivations in being upset over having to say goodbye are a bit self-centered. I can observe this even in saying goodbye to my friends at college. I'm going to miss them because I've grown attached to them. I need them. I'm needy. And that makes me so selfish, that I'm not as joyful as I should be in letting them move forward to new and better things and experiences in their lives. In many ways, a piece of me wishes I could hold them back and hold on to them forever. But I know that part of me is wrong. I'm slowly learning that sometimes, loving means letting go, even if for only a short while.

Goodbye, Sandyloo. You were the sweetest little puppy I ever knew, and I loved you so much. Thank you, God, for blessing the last ten years and a half years of my life with my little wet-nosed baby girl.