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UNIVERSE WITHIN
by Gwen Randall-Young
Somehow, I ended up with three cats. First there were only two, but there were three children, one of whom convinced me that the ratio of children to cats should be equal. That was all about 16 years ago.
They have been healthy cats and have done a fine job of running the household and keeping us all in line. Then, suddenly, just before New Year's, one of them was not herself. She had no energy and could barely hold up her head. This seemed to happen from one day to the next, as she had seemed quite fine until then.
A trip to the vet revealed a large abdominal mass and a poor prognosis. Sweetie had always been a very special cat. At age six, my youngest daughter named her Sweetie because she looked into that little cat face and it was just so sweet! There was an unusual bond between these two. Sweetie slept with her every night and sat right beside her at every opportunity. As my youngest grew older and was out of the house more often, Sweetie would meow to make me follow her up to the empty bedroom. She would look at me with a look that was both puzzled and demanding. She did not like it when Tasha was not here.
If Tasha were away for a week, Sweetie would sleep faithfully on her bed every night, keeping it warm until she returned. Sweetie was euthanized New Year's Eve, exactly one week before Tasha was to leave for Italy on a three-month university exchange. That would have been very hard for such a devoted cat. Did she know?
Of course, I was very sad. It was like the beginning of the end of an era. The cats represented the years of a full house with children and pets. I realized the era has been ending for a while. It has been quite a few years since my two eldest have been out on their own. It is different with Sweetie though, for this is final.
As hard as it was to go through this process, Sweetie was a teacher. At the vet's, she looked around a bit, looked right into my eyes as if to say goodbye and then just lay down. As the vet prepared her for the injection, she did not resist in the slightest. In fact, she lay down her head as though she were surrendering to sleep. It was very peaceful. We cried a lot and the rest of the day was very hard. By the next day, there was a sense that all was in divine order. It was her time and she did not suffer.
It made me think about all the letting go we must do throughout life. Of course, as we age, there is more and more that we either let go of, or that which simply slips away. It seems that every letting go prepares us for the final letting go, when we must let go of everything, while life goes on for the living.
Tasha will go off to Italy and begin a new adventure. The other two cats, we know, are nearing the end of their lives. My parents are aging and my children are starting to have children. The circle of life keeps going around and around.
One day, we all will lay down our heads for the last time. We will live on in the memories of those who knew us, and eventually there will be no one left who was directly acquainted with us. To recognize this, and not be saddened by it, is what coming to terms with our own mortality is all about.
Once we have done that and have no more fear about the transient nature of our existence, we are free to truly embrace the joy and the miracle of the human experience.
We are free to release all that is unimportant and to focus on our loving relationships with other living beings. In the end, that is all that matters, and by then, we realize that is all that ever mattered.
Gwen Randall-Young is an author and psychotherapist in private practice. For more articles or information about her books and CDs, visit www.gwen.ca. See display ad in this issue.
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