Christian Living

The Death Void

by Andrew Tuttle
08/30/21
For Sale
Author requests article critique

  Message Writer
  Hire Writer

Tweet

One life event always gets me thinking and generally prompts me to write.

Death.

This weekend marked a six-year anniversary. August 28 at 11:22 p.m. to be exact. I recalled that day, just as I do every year since, remembering how I felt in the days leading up to it, that day and the days following. 

It’s never easy to deal with death, even if that death happens to be a pet which some people understand, lots don’t and a few really understand. Twitch our beloved cat of 17 ½ years lost what was probably a semi-long battle with cancer we just didn’t know it until that evening.

Or at least didn’t want to be open to the possibility.

She’d been acting strange for a few months though for her strange was normal. She was our outside cat who’d finally realized the joys of being indoors years ago. When she’d retire to the garage for the night, back when she roamed the yard, I always ensured the garage air was clean and free from car pollutants. Yes, even if we’d arrive home after a late night, I’d shut off the engine while pulling in and coast to a stop. Then at midnight or 1 a.m. or whatever time it was I’d leave the garage open and wait until all exhaust was exhausted from the garage. That’s how we treat our pets.

As she developed her indoor habit, Twitch’s nickname became “Half and Half” as she was half indoor and half outdoor until she was 100% indoors with the rest of her family. Our routine during the summer on warm nights was to lie on a hammock as I watched the stars. She’d hang out for a while until she found something more interesting and go inspect. One night, despite arthritis creeping in, she bolted off my chest and across the lawn to let the neighbor’s cat know she still ruled the backyard. It worked.

I took her to our regular vet on that Friday afternoon. After he palpated her (normal belly exam) he couldn’t find anything. We discussed our option and then as she laid there she peed. Not normal. He palpated her again and this time he felt it. A hard lump. Within seconds she began vomiting. Then panting, then vomiting. We decided a specialist was needed so an appointment was made for the following morning.

One we would not keep.

Perhaps she’d had enough or a tumor was dislodged, certainly something I’ll never know, but she went downhill fast. I brought her home, she vomited again and despite her previous lethargy she managed to grow even more lethargic. Food was out of the question, whereas six hours earlier she ate like no one’s business.

I decided a trip to the emergency clinic was best and deep down I knew we might not be returning home with her alive. She said goodbye to her sister Chloe and off we went. She’d already tricked me by looking dead at home and several times on the way there my wife thought she passed. I’ll save the dramatics but we opted for X-rays and it showed what we feared. No easy tumor, we thought, could be extracted the next day by the specialist.

There was a mass in her chest and her liver was undefined. The vet said something was there, at the least, blocking the x-ray’s view. Her fat pockets all but used up, she was little more than skin and bones.

It was time.

Earlier that evening, as I brought her to the hammock for what would be our last time together, I began pondering something that’s been on my mind for a while. Why am I here? Ironically or coincidentally, on our way to the emergency clinic one of my favorite songs about just that accompanied us the entire trip. Why are we here/because we’re here/Why does it happen/Because it happens. Roll the Bones.

The Death Void, as I call it, reigned. Just as it had many times before and several times since.

Death really upends my life as it does anyone’s. I recalled a friend of mine losing his teenage son and I often thought about him and how he coped. Don’t misunderstand, I am not comparing losing my 17 ½ year old cat to someone losing a son who never reached 30. Despite this gulf, we both knew we’d live longer than our loved one. Last week, we all heard about the tragic deaths of 13 members of our military. Something that should not have happened. I’ve heard the grief of the parents and wonder how they can ever move on.

I don’t turn to atheism as I once did. Atheism is for the God haters or the small minded. Spend 10 minutes in the produce aisle of any grocery store and tell me the variety of food offered for sale was created by chance. The yellow bananas, the orange oranges, the grapefruit, papayas, limes, lemons, blueberries. Everything needed to sustain life is right here in front of me and it all tastes different and features a wide variety of benefits for the human body. I cannot for the life of me store up enough faith that there is no God.

But the pain involved with living is, at times, excruciating. As I get older what depresses me most, I think, is how fleeting life is. Except as I’ve learned the painful moments. That which gives me joy gives me less joy as I know it is so temporary. So why does the pain leave such lasting scars? Why can’t the joys leave a lasting balm?

God has blessed/cursed (depends on how you look at it) my wife and I with a heart for animals. They are innocent, victims to man’s failings. So why am I here? I am not a preacher. I don’t have the gift of evangelism. I don’t write about Christianity in a way that brings people “onboard” if you will. I don’t push my faith on others at work or in my neighborhood. They know I go to church, if they ask, but that’s about it. I give money. Isn’t that easy though?

A few years ago I read something or in my daily ponderings I realized something. It was something so profound (at least I thought it was) that had someone sat me down in high school and spelled it out for me perhaps my life would have turned out differently.

For some perspective, I was never one of those that complained that the math I took would never do anything for me since I wasn’t going into a field that required math but studying did not come easy and I never really cared for school. Sitting in class listening to a lesson and then regurgitating that lesson back on a test didn’t fit with me. I learn best “hands on,” as I’ve discovered through my travels in life, and experience, for me, is a far greater method of teaching then sitting in a classroom.

But what I realized is that school is in many respects, exercise for your brain. Whether you get an A or C putting in the effort creates brain muscle. In weight lifting, I have to work my weigh (get it?) to bench pressing 250 pounds. I can’t lift that much without putting in the effort. I know this may sound juvenile but I believe had someone explained that school is more or less a function of developing and expanding your brain, firing up all the synapses and connecting neurons I would have been better off and so would everyone else. It might be a “well duh” moment here, but I think most teenagers live in “well duh” moments. If you have a teenager my advice is for you to sit down with him or her and explain this.

So, where the heck am I going with all this? If there’s an answer to why am I here sitting in class learning a subject that A) I’ll never remember, B) I have no interest in, and C) This won’t do me a bit of good in 20 years then there must be an answer for now.

After Twitch died my wife looked at photos through tears. I had a hard time looking at them because they are simply photos. I want Twitch present with me. Whenever a loved one dies whether animal or human, I feel guilty knowing I have to move on, because isn’t moving on forgetting? Eventually Twitch, as did and will the rest of my current pets, became the past.

Remember when…

Life goes on. I’ll go to work. Write about nothing that impacts the world in anyway, most of which goes unread. Come home. For a while I went through my ritual of looking for Twitch who was no longer present. I resorted to absorbing time with her sister Chloe who should have died nearly two years earlier but through the Grace of God (has to be right?) she remained despite her kidney disease. I eventually lost her, too. I knew I’d lose Twitch, someday. But that Friday August 28 was unexpected. We always want to delay the inevitable don’t we?

Weeks passed. The pain subsided. But I think in the last several years, I’ve lost whatever overall joy comes with youth. Not because of Twitch. The fade started even before losing her. The Death Void only gets larger as we grow older. The clouds grow darker and thicker but the winds of change do little, if anything, to blow it away.

So what’s all this preparing me for? Do I need to step up my “Christian” game? Am I missing something just like I missed it in high school?

I’ve spent years trying to figure out how to prevent the old “I wish I knew then what I know now” sentiment but it feels like I’m always behind the curve.

I sure hope I’m not thinking the same thing when I meet Jesus but maybe this is all preparing us to meet Him.