As most of you probably know, I stay on top of Jon Katz' Bedlam Farm blog. I feel like I've known him forever. Well, today I read that someone sent him an e-mail wondering why he doesn't seem to grieve for Rose, a wonderful dog he had for many years who died recently. I thought his response was absolutely spot-on as far as I'm concerned:
Grief to me is not about crying. There is a wonderful sweet beauty to grieving for me, it is an interior process, a deep and rich melancholy that passes through me and over me like a cool summer breeze or the sounds of rustling leaves in autumn. Death for me, is a form of life itself, an affirmation, for nothing can die without having lived. And nothing can be grieved without having been loved.
Grieving is not a sad thing for me, not a cause for weeping. We will all die, and everything we love shall die, and I do not want to experience each death of a human or animal as an awful thing, a horrible and unexpected shock, evidence that God could not exist or that the world is a cruel and horrible place. Why would we not expect death when it is our one universal experience, the place where left and right means nothing, and there is no need to fear money or illness or anything else?
We all live our lives to their fated end, however long or short, however we die, and Rose lived hers fully and richly. I do not mourn her life, I celebrate it, I am grateful for it, it was a beautiful thing to see, it made me happy, and insofar as dogs feel these things, I think it made her busy and content. She lived the life of a dog to the fullest, and what more can a dog really want? And what more could I want than Maria, Simon, Frieda, Lenore, Red, my work and farm? Why would I need to mourn in the midst of so many riches? How selfish, how greedy that would be.
Hmm. After that, nothing else I might discuss seems important.
No comments:
Post a Comment