Thank You Jake

Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell.

–Emily Dickinson

Not long ago, I had a short discussion with Jennie about loss. I basically said that I don’t know why we must experience it. I don’t mean biologically, that’s necessity. I mean ontologically. I’ve heard and understand all the explanations that basically amount to death putting life in perspective. I agree with them.

It’s my opinion, however, that little solace, from the pain of a lost loved one, comes from the intellectual knowledge that we ought to grab life by the balls every day. In fact, I’ve found very little that eases the pain of loss. In the Christian tradition, seeing those we love in heaven is a supposed comfort. For whatever reason, probably selfishly, that doesn’t do much for me.

If you’ve read my blog consistently, or really much at all, over the past several months, you know that my dog Zoie died this past January. Her sickness, and subsequent death, was one of the hardest experiences of my life. I used to apologize for that, saying that some people won’t understand because she was a dog. Well, they still won’t, but I just don’t give a damn. I’m getting better, but there are still times when a deep sadness wells up from the very pit of my soul and has to come out one way or another.

Hang on for a minute and I’ll explain why my struggle with understanding loss, especially in context of Zoie, is an important part of the reason for this post.

Yesterday, I was reminded of my conversation with Jennie when she sent me a text and told me that Duke, the dog of her brother, David, and sister-in-law, Carey, had died. I was shocked. My immediate reaction, even though it’s of little importance after the fact, was to ask what had happened. The answer: Cancer. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Fuck Cancer.

So, after I had some time for the initial shock to pass, I asked Jennie if they are okay. She said that they had prepared for the worst when, knowing Duke had liver cancer, he went in for exploratory surgery, and that they are okay as they can be. Then, when I got home yesterday afternoon, Jennifer mentioned to me that telling Jake, David and Carey’s young son, about Duke was going to be tough. I hadn’t even thought of that. How do you explain such a complex, emotional issue to someone not yet capable of comprehending all the intricacies of life?

This morning, via email from Jennie, I received the answer. Basically, they just told him straight up. It’s the bravest thing I’ve heard recently. I’m not sure I could have done it. But the even more remarkable part is that, when they prayed for Duke later that night, Jake, knowing that his mother was upset about losing Duke, just told Carey, “Mommy, he sooo safe now.”

Jake, without even knowing it, has brought me a level of comfort that no adult, with a deep understanding of all the philosophical and religious writings of human history, could possibly bring. Duke is safe. And so is Zoie.

Out of the mouths of babes…