Death Stings

It’s been just a year since we participated in a family hay ride, at my aunt and uncle’s house, in Brush Prairie.  When we stopped at the barn, we discovered a mommy cat with seven kittens.  Of course my kids (and The Wife) thought they were adorable.  After waiting for their shots and sterilization surgeries, a month later we brought home two sibling kittens.  They were a perfect fit for our home.

A month or so ago, both kittens experienced medical and traumatic incidents.  Rocky apparently tangled with something bigger than him and his foot became inflamed.  We suspect he learned the importance of staying away from raccoons!  With some nursing by The Wife, he was restored to health.  Rozy, however, began to lose weight and we couldn’t determine the cause.  She was plagued by vomiting and diarrhea.  Because of our current financial situation, we couldn’t afford to seek expert medical attention for her.  The Wife used her best RN skills to nurse her back to health – and we had begun to see a turn around.

Tuesday evening we returned from a couple of days in Eugene.  We stayed with good friends there while I took an American Heart Association PALS course.  We left the cats in the garage with adequate food, water, and the all important kitty litter.  Upon entering the garage we were greeted by Rocky, but Rozy was nowhere to be found.  Jennifer grew gravely concerned.

We sent the kids into the house and I got a flashlight and began to search high and low. Interestingly, it’s not always easy to tell if something is alive from across the room, but dead bodies are unmistakable.  As soon as I saw her, I knew we had lost her.  She was curled up in a corner, motionless.  I had to move a mattress and some boards to get to her.  She was cold and stiff, but it was obvious she had gone painlessly.  Jennifer began to cry.

As I stood with my arms around my tender wife, I whispered silent prayers for wisdom.  How will I break this to my precious little girl?

Jennifer went into the house to make some dinner for the kids and I began to extricate Rozy from her place of rest.  I left her lying on the garage floor, covered with one of my old t-shirts.  When I went into the house, both kids were eating, and The Wife was quietly crying in the living room.  I was not yet ready to break the news to my Darling Daughter, but she is too bright for her own good sometimes.

“Daddy, did you find Rozy?” She asked.

I mumbled something just short of a lie, as she stared into my eyes.

“Did she die?”

I nodded softly, and quietly said: “Yes.”

My eyes were locked onto hers as I watched the realization creep into her soul.

How would she react?  Does she understand?  What is she thinking?  How badly will she be hurt?  Will she be hurt?  Am I going to have to have a long conversation about death? What will she... And with that a look of sheer pain broke over her face and she reached out to me.  I scooped her up out of her booster chair and held her close.  She melted in my arms as the sobs and cries pulsed through her tender heart.  The pain was real.  She understood.

She has been with me as I’ve officiated at funerals, but it was just under a year ago when we drove to Valentine, Nebraska to do Jennifer’s uncle’s funeral.  And it was just about a month ago that my Darling Daughter was sharing with me her memories of that event.  She talked about what it was like to see Uncle Aub in the casket; and she wondered why everyone was so sad.  Of course, she has also seen dead animals along the roadside, the birds and shrews that our cats have killed, and just a few weeks ago we found a mole that the cats had left for dead.  My daughter has seen death, but on this Tuesday night, she was tasting it.

It’s at this point that I have to admit that I’m not much of a cat person.  I had a cat when I was a kid, and I loved him dearly, but my experiences with cats since have not been ones you’d call endearing.  I hate to admit this, especially in the midst of my family’s grieving, but the loss of Rozy wasn’t affecting me that much.  But, when my wife started crying, my heart was pricked.  When my Darling Daughter started sobbing, I lost it too.  The three of us sat on the couch, in a big heap of arms, legs, tears, sobs, prayers, and runny noses.  I hated to see the pain of death in my precious, sweet, innocent, and Darling Daughter.  I cursed the disobedience and rebelliousness that brings death into our lives, and I cried out for salvation from the pain.

After crying for a bit, Darling Daughter asked if she could see her Rozy kitty. Of course.  When I lay her in the garage and covered her, I had already tried to prepare for a “viewing.”  The Wife was hesitant, but all my education on death and dying, plus way too much personal experience, has taught me that this is an important part of the grieving process.  Jennifer hadn’t wanted to see the body earlier.  She said Rozy was such a pretty kitty, she didn’t want the images of death to cloud out the good memories.  All four of us ended up standing on the in front of the car, looking at Rozy on the other side of the garage, wrapped carefully in my old t-shirt, with just enough of her exposed.  That’s as close as Darling Daughter asked to go.

She wanted to know why I covered her with the t-shirt? Because the garage floor is cold. Why is her face covered?  Out of respect. I also explained how she wasn’t breathing, wasn’t moving, and what death means.

“See how her tail isn’t moving?” I asked.  ”Kitties’ tails always move, even when they’re asleep.  Not even her tail is moving.“

After a few minutes of quiet reflection (absorption?), we went back into the house and began to discuss plans for the funeral. Of course there were more tears and more questions, but I was amazed at how aware and understanding she was.  Smiling Son was mostly oblivious to everything.  He showed concern over the tears, but mostly smiled curiously.  While she was getting into her nightgown, I asked my Darling Daughter if she wanted to draw (one of her favorite activities)?  This bit of informal art therapy allowed her to express much about her relationship with Rozy and her feelings.  It also opened up opportunities for her to talk about some things she was trying to wrap her heart and mind around.  Via her drawings, we decided to bury Rozy under one of our newly planted apple trees.  She spent a good hour drawing.

The Wife told me later that she and our Darling Daughter stayed up late laughing, crying, giggling, and processing.  (It was one of their most intimate times I was told.)  Later, when they came to bed, we all slept in a cozy heap of comfort in our family bed.

Wednesday morning we began preparing for the funeral.

Darling Daughter called a friend and very matter-of-factly, told another four-year old how her Cat, Rozy, had died and she wanted him to come to the funeral.  Unfortunately, he was unable to come.  After a bit, we decided to limit the funeral to just our immediate family.  I placed Rozy in a box and we dug a hole under one of the apple trees.  Darling Daughter asked if she could put the box in the hole?  Sure, I said; but thinking it would be difficult, I asked her why she wouldn’t let me do it.

“Because she’s my kitty.” I was told.

After placing her in the ground, I held my Darling Daughter close and gave a brief eulogy.  We talked about our memories of Rozy.  We laughed, we reflected, we smiled, and we cried.  As I shoveled dirt onto the box, we sang a couple of songs.  I pushed a stick in the ground, as a temporary marker, and then we prayed.  This is the text we read during the service, and this is the hope we cling to:

“And now, dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have dieds so you will not grieve like people who have no hope.For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died. We tell you this directly from the Lord: We who are still living when the Lord returns will not meet him ahead of those who have died. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, the Christians who have died will rise from their graves.Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Then we will be with the Lord forever.So encourage each other with these words” ~1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

In my life, I’ve seen too much death.  I have images ingrained into my brain of tragic deaths.  It wasn’t until my Mom died, almost four years ago, that I really understood the pain of death.  It wasn’t until last Tuesday night that I really felt the pain when someone else loses a loved one. Clearly, this was the most important funeral I’ve ever performed.

I know my Darling Daughter will grow up, move on, and this kitty will become a distant memory.  She’ll never forget her name though.  And she’ll never forget her first real loss.  Neither will I.  Damn. Death stings!

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Related Posts:

• • Helping Children Deal with Death
  • Talking To Children About Death

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