Death is such a strange process. One minute you're alive and then a few seconds later, you're not. The body looks exactly the same, but the spirit has vanished. As I stood next to Dot at the crematorium and stroked her soft ears, it seemed like she was just sleeping. She looked peaceful and remarkably similar to the dog I've watched sleeping next to me on the floor for the past year.
I have no idea how a dog's mind actually works, but I hope that Dot had come to terms with the temporary nature of life before she passed away. I not sure either of my parents came to terms with death and I'm not sure I will either. Life is very fragile. I think all of us should embrace and make the most of the gift of life, but I don't think we should fear death either. It's going to happen to all of us.
When my Dad died, I was the only one who sat in a room and talked with him just before he was cremated. Nobody else in the family wanted to face death that closely, but I found this time peaceful and comforting. I had a long conversation with my Dad. I thanked him for all the opportunities he'd given me over the years and chided him for being such an idiot to fall for one of those Nigerian prince scams toward the end of his life. We weren't always close, but this was one of the better conversations we'd ever had.
Dot knew that we loved her, but as I talked with her in the crematorium's viewing room, I wondered if she realized what a huge influence she had on me. This small dog had made me a better person. Janet and I were quiet as we returned to Dallas. We both knew that there was a large hole in our lives that would take a while to fill.
I'm glad we made the trip when we did, because later in the day there was a horrendous thunderstorm that caused localized flooding all over the place. If we'd been on the road in that storm, our trip would have taken ten times as long. I had planned on returning to pick up Dot's ashes later today, but I'm glad I didn't. Dash was terrified of the loud thunder and I spent a good part of the afternoon sitting under a makeshift blanket tent on the bed with him.
The power flickered this afternoon, but it didn't go out. Janet's drive home from work took forever, but at least the road wasn't underwater like it was in some parts of the city. We had a nice quiet dinner as the storm subsided. As we looked around a house strewn with traction rugs, dog beds, gates, and improvised pens designed to keep Dot safe, we realized that it was going to be a long time before life returned to normal.
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That's neat. As hard as it has always been, I've always been the one to bury my dogs. I can't imagine leaving one with the vet to be disposed of. That image was not helped at all by the fact that the oldest son spent a summer working for a vet doing just that. Not a good picture. Most of ours are in one general area up on the hill except Charlotte, who died when we were not home and someone else buried her, and Maggie, who I put under the apple tree near the house. Not sure why. I think I didn't want to take a chance on hitting a previous grave site, since they aren't marked. It would kill me to accidentally dig up Chips. As special as they all are, he was beyond words. And I would know if it was him because I buried him with his favorite ball. Anyway.... I hope peace comes to you soon.
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