Death Lessons

We have just spent the last 4 days in our home dwelling on death. It is the first close and personal experience with the end of a beloved life that my boys remember.

Almost 2 years ago we decided it was time for our G.J. to choose a pet for his 5th birthday. He chose a young gray rat, and immediately named him Green.?? As he chose him, his 3 year-old brother began to cry as he wanted one too. After a quick meeting, Chris and I decided to let M.C. choose one of Green's brothers. And so Edward, a gray and white rat, made the trip home too.

This last Friday night we noticed that Green didn't seem quite right. By Saturday he was barely moving and we thought he would soon leave us. But he held on, as his little body shut down. By Tuesday morning his breath was strangled and I wasn't sure he could hear us anymore. When I brought the kids home from school that afternoon, he was finally at peace.

There are many people who choose not have pets because they want to spare their children the pain of loss, since animals often don't live that long. I respect their decision. I don't want to cause my kids pain, either. But to be honest, this life has lots of loss in it. And lessons learned in childhood prepare us for what we can't see coming.

I have been surrounded by animals my entire life. I can't imagine life without them. They taught me my first, and possibly most important lessons on love, trust, patience, kindness, and gentleness. I learned about death and reproduction from chickens, rabbits, and even a pig. When I was 7, my beloved grandpa died. I remember hearing adults talking about us kids at the funeral and asking "do you think they possibly understand?" Yes, we understood. We had wrestled with the questions of death and healing and Heaven so many times before, that when we really needed to understand, we did.

I know my early experiences are directly related to how comfortable I feel in witnessing the grief of others. I spent many years sitting with people whose lives had just fallen apart. In my years supporting sexual assault survivors in the emergency room, I was often surprised by how few people were there to support the survivor. Often they were alone, at the darkest point in their lives. Why? I think as a culture we aren't comfortable with pain, or experiences that make us ask "why?" and we find there aren't easy answers. We as a people often don't know how to support someone through pain, so we expect that a professional can do it better. I don't think that is how we were created, and it isn't how other cultures respond to grief, trauma, and pain.

On Saturday as it finally hit G.J. that Green was going to die. He left the room, came back in, looked at me, and began to sob as he said, "Mom, I just want to die too". I held him as we grieved for our friend. We talked to him, held him, and prayed for him. We immersed ourselves in grief that you can only feel after great love.

Almost 3 years ago we had a foster daughter whose mom had died. My kids had lots of questions at that time. It is one of a kid's deepest fears to lose their mom (or dad), so to know a kid who is struggling with that loss is tough for other kids. It brings up uncomfortable questions that are hard to say out loud. The boys were so young, and since death had not touched them personally, they really didn't know what to think. They would respond very differently after this week.

People believe many things about animals and whether they have souls or not. I believe wholeheartedly that animals have souls and a bond with our Creator Father that we will never know. People call the miraculous knowledge of animals "instinct". I think it is only instinct to us. For an animal, especially a wild one, they rely on their Creator for survival. If only we had such faith. I believe that God loves each animal and I can see Him in their eyes. So I am confident in the talks we have had in our house the last few days. I am sad that Green was probably in pain. Yet I am thankful for the days to ponder and process together the meaning of life and death and love with my kids. The slow death of a friend (who happened to be a rat) allowed us to talk about so many big questions. "Why can't God fix him?" "Will Edward die too?" "What will Heaven be like?"

We are all thankful we made the decision to keep the brothers together. They were the cuddliest of rats, and allowed us to have many conversations about brothers and sharing space growing up together. Now as only one is left, we can talk about grief and going on and remembering.

Yesterday, G.J. wanted to wait for his dad to get home before burying Green. They chose a spot and for the first time, G.J. asked to lead a prayer. He prayed for his friend, thanking God for his life. We are so proud of the strength and growth that we have seen in our son over the last several days.

There is a depth to character that seems to only come after wrestling with great pain. I can see this depth in my growing son's character. Thank you, Father.