From Seed Back To Earth

I am practically holding my breath. This whole dying thing is much quieter, more private, and full of anticipation than I really knew. I suppose it must be tenfold worse when it's a person and not just a cat. Yet, I have to say, I really don't know if the death part is all that different. Sure, you will miss some people more acutely than you would a loved cat, but, the dying isn't really different. I find myself wondering about my own death. I can't tell you how many times I plotted and planned for it when I was much younger. Now that I don't really want it, it has a different taste in my thoughts.

Will it be quick? Will it take ages? Will I have to watch my loved ones watching me endlessly for the last breath? Will I be able to crawl away to die alone? I used to think that the worst must be to die alone. I don't think that any more. I can see that my cat doesn't want us to bother him too much. He has periodically dragged himself out to lay inert near us, and then stumbled back to the privacy of dark corners. Right now he is in the office which is where he will die unless I physically move him. He is not dead yet, though his breathing is slow and shallow and he can no longer hold himself up at all.

I told myself that if he was still alive today I would call the vet to make the appointment to put him to sleep. But part of me feels that it would be cowardly of me to do that. He seems quite at peace, just breathing. That's all he's doing and it almost seems like he's meditating. He's in the ultimate essence of self as he's preparing to die, because that's all he is now, a being, breathing. He doesn't even look like he's waiting.

If I die slowly without pain I will tell Philip not to call the vet for me. I will crawl into the closet where I will cease to worry about corporeal concerns and just breath. (And pee on the towels, probably.) A simple beautiful part of life. It's the first thing we do when we exit the womb and it's the last thing we do before we leave. Breathing is the essence of being. I understand why it's so important to our connection with the universe.

I'm lucky to live in Oregon where I can, under certain circumstances, be assisted in putting myself out of misery when I get to the end of my life. It makes me feel comfortable knowing that I have the option.

I don't think Ozark is much aware of us now. To move him would be to interrupt his privacy. His last quiet moments here on earth. There is no way of knowing how he feels, what his kitty brain registers but I'd be willing to bet it isn't full of regret or sorrow or other things us humans indulge in.

Life and death really are the great equalizers, aren't they? We all unfold limb by limb (if we've got them) until we reach some kind of apex in life, and then we all begin to gradually fold back inwards. Some more quickly than others. Like the life of a flower. Donald Trump will one day be exactly as a blowzy flower about to drop all it's petals and his wealth will be meaningless. Unlike Ozark he may feel regret. We all borrow bodies, whether they belong to ants, to melons, to humans, or to birds, and then we shed them.

What I find humbling is the extreme selfishness of those who are being left behind by another being. We have all these expectations and demands, we feel we have all kinds of rights when it comes to us and our loved ones. We feel outrage when anything we love dies. We are hurt. We are lonely. We miss who and what we miss. We have longing. We have needs. We want death to work out a certain way so that us, (the ones not dying), can get through it as easily as possible.

I find myself impatient of this whole dying process. Why is Ozark hanging on so long? What is he doing? I'm going to have a ton of cat piss to clean. I want to start cleaning now but aside from the great inertia I've been experiencing lately I know I won't do it until Ozark is finished. I wonder if I should go dig a grave now? Or later? Will he die at a convenient moment for us to dig a big hole and bury him? What if I have to have his dead body hang around for a day? Will I really ever be able to go through this again? Maybe we shouldn't ever get more pets. It's going to be even worse with Chick because she's so much bigger. Oh god, what if I have to watch Philip and Max go through this? What if I'm the last one standing?

I guess if that happened I would have no problem dying alone.

Then I listen to myself.

And I wonder what my rush is. What's my discomfort? Is it that I'm worried that Ozark is in pain or that I am in pain? Every time he tries to stand up I feel like I would like to die in his place if only he would not make me see how he can't walk, how helpless he is becoming as his body is shutting down. Maybe it scares me because I wonder if that's going to be me one day, trying to get my bladder to a toilet and falling down like a drunken sailor instead. I suddenly think that maybe I was wrong in thinking that the worst way to die is in an accident or by being murdered. Would that be better than to slowly shut down while everyone around you just holds their breath and waits?

Why should I be in a hurry to get this over with? Death is just another one of those facts of life that humans have become increasingly detached from. People used to die at home because there was nowhere else to die. Their families would have to dig the grave, prepare the burial clothes, and then prepare the body itself. All of which I'm going to do for my cat.

When he gets around to dying.

So I was asking myself what my real discomfort is and I suppose the answer is that it pains me to see an animal I have known for over thirteen years, and loved unreasonably, become incapacitated. I am powerless to help him.

Then I look at him just turning inward and I recognize this as a universal process. This is, what is. There are a million ways to die and I think that this is one of the most peaceful ones.

I really don't like this whole dying thing. But I want Max to understand that it's natural and not something to turn his back on. So I'm not turning my back on it either.

It's weird though, I have had the urge to take a couple of last pictures of him but I cannot let myself do it because it's already too late. It would be like photographing someone while they were on the toilet, or while they were vomiting, or crying. I just know it's not right. It's a line I can't cross. So I have gotten the last pictures of my kitty. I am trying not to constantly bother him. I am trying to be mature and let him pass in peace. I'm trying really hard not to gather him up in my arms for a last snuggle. I know he doesn't want me to do that. I know that all of that is just for me at this point. A selfish desire of the living.

I want to write about other things. I'm ready to make pasta and take pictures of it (I got my camera back). I'm ready to talk gardening. I'm ready for all kinds of levity and offense, but I can't seem to move on from this topic until Ozark does.

All for a cat. Who started as a tiny seed. Just as I did.

I want to know what other people think about death, about the process, about your own hopes? I want to know what makes you most uncomfortable about seeing a pet or another family member die? Do you feel only blinding sorrow or have you found a philosophical view of it as well? What comforts you the most when you have lost a loved one? Do you fear it? For yourself? For others?

It shapes us all. I'm looking at it now. I think that life without death is like a run on sentence and eventually the eye wants a period. The mind wants a period. It offers rest to everyone.