Friday, 5/2/97 Answering life’s most difficult questions Father
recalls memories of deceased pet to assuage son’s grief
By Patrick MacDonald The Daily Nebraskan University of Nebraska
As a parent, one of my most difficult tasks is to explain to my
children why things happen. I can fall back on my considerable
knowledge of science to help me deal with questions like "Why is
the sky blue?" or "Why do leaves fall from the trees in the fall?"
Now I have to face the challenges of answering questions like "Why
do people act the way they do?" or the most difficult question of
all: "Why do things have to die?" I was confronted with this
question recently in dealing with the loss of a pet. Like any other
member of the family, pets share in your good moments and help
comfort you in more troubling times. This particular pet was a cat
that had lived with us for almost 10 years. She has shared in the
good times and the bad and has provided comfort to every member of
my family. She will be sorely missed. My son is taking this loss
especially hard. Sure, he has seen death on a limited scale in the
loss of a fish or an occasional hamster, but they don’t really
survive long enough to create a lasting bond. They don’t rub up
against you, purring and meowing, begging for attention. They don’t
respond to your emotions and jump into your lap or lick your hand
to lend moral support. So how do you explain to a child the concept
of life and death? How do you comfort him when he feels he has lost
such a close friend? Like anyone else, I draw on my past
experiences. I would study my feelings regarding death and try to
establish a means to explain why this had to happen and what good
will come from it. I remembered my maternal grandmother’s painful
death to cancer, a close personal friend dying of a heart attack
while serving in the navy and the lost pets I cherished as a child.
The experience that helped me deal best with my son’s feelings was
the loss of my favorite pet to a fire. I remember vividly the
firefighter apathetically carrying my friend by the tail from our
burnt home and dropping her lifeless body on the ground. I spent
several stunned moments pondering why this happened, then got to
the task of giving her a proper burial – one that a good friend
would truly deserve. Had I known then what I know now about Viking
funerals, I would have carried her body to the creek that ran
behind our home, built a small raft, placed her lovingly on the
raft, set it afire, then prayed that she would welcome me as a
Valkyrie when I someday made my own way to Valhalla. As it stood, I
had to settle for burying her in my backyard, muttering some magic
words to release her spirit and spending several hours crying
beside her crude grave. Realizing how much these simple actions had
helped me deal with my own loss, I now approach my son to explain
death. I try to tell him about the cycle of life and how everything
that lives must die someday so that they can move on to a better
place. I tell him about Cat Heaven, a place where cats are never
chased by dogs, the food and water are always plentiful and little
sisters aren’t there to torment them or pull their tails. Most
important, I have to understand his feelings and allow him time to
grieve. Like me, he will never truly get over the pain or the
feelings of loss, but he will learn to accept them someday. Until
that day comes, all I can do is listen to how he is feeling,
provide a shoulder to cry on and support him as any parent would.
So, why do things die? Well, son, things die so that they can be
remembered and praised by future generations. Death is necessary to
free our loved ones from pain and suffering and allow them to move
on to a better place where the food and drink are plentiful and
debates are on a friendlier scale. But most of all, death is
necessary so we will appreciate the value of our own lives. To my
pet, I hope to see you in Valhalla someday. Rest in peace.
MacDonald is a columnist for the Daily Nebraskan.