Loss certainly is a lesson. Thanks for an excellent post. I especially liked this, "There’s something chilling about this indifference. It makes us feel vulnerable, as though all our plans and preparations could be undone by a single misstep, a single ill-timed moment."
Ugh. This is hard. I've stood witness to a pet being killed in front of me, powerless to do anything but watch. It's a heartbreaking event, but only because we've had the privilege to love them.
One can find Sam Harris recordings all over the internets, where he's talking about death in many contexts, not dissimilar to how you capture it here. The point he often makes about how we spend some part of every day avoiding death in some way is telling. It made me think about it when you pointed out how pioneers were facing this way more frequently than we do today, but also how you reflected on the preciousness of this unfolding now.
May you suffer no more than is absolutely necessary.
It wasn't that the losses were any less sudden in Pioneer times, it's that sudden losses were expected. We have come to think we are protected from bad things suddenly happening to us as long as we carefully take the "right steps", even though we know death (and other, perhaps worse, occurrences) are inevitable. Much better to take the steps that call to you, as what comes comes what may.
I was struggling to come up with words of wisdom to try to comfort you and came up with cliche after cliche. But cliches are cliches for a reason. And classics are classics for a reason, so I will leave you with words from one of (IMHO) the greats:
"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Joy [...]and sorrow[...]are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed"
So sorry for your loss. Beautifully written. I often observe and think of moments like a movie- what if this was the last time “x” which you only ever know in hindsight or rewind not as we live forward. I had a spiritual teacher once say that when something unwanted happens (death, diagnosis, etc) we often think “why me?” While all the while the real question is “why not me?” - not any less hard but perhaps more real
Yes! I read a book (name escaping me) about a Stanford Dr that ends up with a terminal disease and he came to the same conclusion- why not me - it’s been a perspective I try to keep
I am seeing the picture of Max on the couch with Naga as a kitten. It was all the way back on Bainbridge Island. She had such adventures with you, traveling from Bainbridge to Portugal, then Oregon. Such love and joy in her presence as part of the family ~~~ May you, and your children, find peace on the other side of your grief. Thank you for allowing us to be vessels of comfort as we read your words.
Loss certainly is a lesson. Thanks for an excellent post. I especially liked this, "There’s something chilling about this indifference. It makes us feel vulnerable, as though all our plans and preparations could be undone by a single misstep, a single ill-timed moment."
Thanks Jeanine - yes my vulnerability is off the charts right now.
Ugh. This is hard. I've stood witness to a pet being killed in front of me, powerless to do anything but watch. It's a heartbreaking event, but only because we've had the privilege to love them.
One can find Sam Harris recordings all over the internets, where he's talking about death in many contexts, not dissimilar to how you capture it here. The point he often makes about how we spend some part of every day avoiding death in some way is telling. It made me think about it when you pointed out how pioneers were facing this way more frequently than we do today, but also how you reflected on the preciousness of this unfolding now.
May you suffer no more than is absolutely necessary.
It wasn't that the losses were any less sudden in Pioneer times, it's that sudden losses were expected. We have come to think we are protected from bad things suddenly happening to us as long as we carefully take the "right steps", even though we know death (and other, perhaps worse, occurrences) are inevitable. Much better to take the steps that call to you, as what comes comes what may.
I was struggling to come up with words of wisdom to try to comfort you and came up with cliche after cliche. But cliches are cliches for a reason. And classics are classics for a reason, so I will leave you with words from one of (IMHO) the greats:
"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Joy [...]and sorrow[...]are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed"
-Kahlil Gibran
So sorry for your loss. Beautifully written. I often observe and think of moments like a movie- what if this was the last time “x” which you only ever know in hindsight or rewind not as we live forward. I had a spiritual teacher once say that when something unwanted happens (death, diagnosis, etc) we often think “why me?” While all the while the real question is “why not me?” - not any less hard but perhaps more real
Yes! I read a book (name escaping me) about a Stanford Dr that ends up with a terminal disease and he came to the same conclusion- why not me - it’s been a perspective I try to keep
If it is “When Breath Becomes Air” that is a profound book. Hard but profound.
That’s the one!
I am seeing the picture of Max on the couch with Naga as a kitten. It was all the way back on Bainbridge Island. She had such adventures with you, traveling from Bainbridge to Portugal, then Oregon. Such love and joy in her presence as part of the family ~~~ May you, and your children, find peace on the other side of your grief. Thank you for allowing us to be vessels of comfort as we read your words.
So beautiful! Seeing Naga made me misty eyed.
Beautifully written! I hope it gives you a bit of peace to put your thoughts in words.