I didn’t get wakened up by my dog today. I didn’t get a chance to make her breakfast or let her go outside to pee. This morning she wasn’t in her usual spot, behind her pink soother toy, waiting for me to throw it so she could chase it.
I got Kiwi almost 12 years ago. We had just gotten married and Shaula worked 7 straight nights shifts (11:30pm to 7:30am) at the hospital, which meant I was sleeping all by myself in our house for a week! On many nights, I would hear noises, some would say it was just something outside, but I was sure it was a ghost. So that’s why we got Kiwi. She would provide me company, friendship and much needed protection- that is, until we found out she was blind.
Kiwi was special, sure she was blind and had digestive problems, but she was sweet. She loved us, even when we got mad at her, she wouldn’t hold a grudge- she would just love us period. And we loved her too. We loved her so much.
That’s why it was so hard to say goodbye yesterday. When we had to put her down, I felt so helpless. Our vet was so sweet, so smart and so caring but like me, there was nothing she can do. There was no medicine, no science experiment; there was just nothing- absolutely nothing you can do when death comes. You’re just helpless.
The hardest part was seeing how it affected my 2 boys- they couldn’t sleep last night, they kept waking up in the middle of the night screaming and crying. They kept asking questions- really hard questions that I myself, refuse to ask or confront so often I suppress them deep into my being because it hurts too much. And I get it, who wants to talk about death? I’ll bring the dip?
As a parent, you want to protect your kids- you want to shield them from the pain and the horrible things of this world. But at the same time, you also can’t run from the existential questions that this world forces us to think about. So they asked questions- a lot of them. A lot of questions that I had no answers for, but just because I couldn’t conceive or imagine one, doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t one.
The question of will we see her again? Is there a heaven? One of the big questions that people naturally asks. In my mind, heaven cannot be empirically proven or disproven, so you’re left only with hope- either you have a lot of it or not much of it. But everyone hopes- everyone puts their trust in something and everyone makes a bet.
Some bet on their feelings- because it feels good to believe that you will see them again. Some bet on their thoughts, because it is a good thought that they are still around. Some take comfort that this is all there is- hang onto the memories. For me, personally I have a hard time basing my hope on this. It’s not necessarily because it’s bad or wrong- I more wonder if it’s enough? Is memories enough for me? I think of what Joseph Tolstoy said, “Is there meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy?”
It’s one of the reasons, why the Christian worldview appeals to me so much. It’s placed on a basis that death can’t destroy. It’s most central idea is placed on a historical man that died and rose again. We could argue the historical merits of this claim. It’s so scrutinized by both sides, so much that people can make a living defending or being skeptical about it. Yet, this is the hope I offered my children yesterday.
Will they take it? Who knows that is their decision to make, all I know is when they grow up they will be offered all kinds of hopes- like romance, career, politics, political figures, or a future utopian society. Hope is a powerful thing. But will it deliver on its promise?
I have so many regrets today- living with a lot of guilt. I wish I wasn’t in such a hurry in life. I wish I would have slowed down. I wish I lived more in the moment. Because if I did, I could have more spent time with her. We could have played more with her favorite toy. I could have hugged her more on her favorite spot on the couch.
And now that’s she’s gone- all that I have left is hope, placing an all in bet on this Jesus guy in hopes that I’ll see her again.
I love you Kiwi. Thank you for everything. I miss you so much already.
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