Saying Good Bye

SCROLLING DOWN FACEBOOK, checking out the posts, America's favorite past time, sometimes I come across one which converys supreme wisdom, amidst the trivia, and sometimes I come across a post which conveys great inspiration, and sometimes, fortunately seldom, I encounter a post which leaves me filled with grief. It was a head on picture of a cat, camera looking the animal straight in the eyes. It was an old cat, by its face. It was laying on a metal table, on a soft cushion, medical style, in the "brisket" position, with two needles in its right forepaw. Its eyes were narrowed, as if narrow were its norm. Immediately trying to comfort myself, I told myself that the narrowed eyes were not slipping into slumber, permanently. That would come soon, but later, after the picture was taken. The two needles were connected to plastic pipe-tubes, through which liquids were flowing. Yes, it looked calm, not fearful. I tried desperately to convince myself of that. The caption simply said: "Saying Good Bye". It said nothing else, as if I should even expect it to. No expressions of human grief. Perhaps we were expected to understand without further explanation. My grief became so great that I began to feel that it would do me in. So far only one person had typed in a comment. The usual, "so sorry for your loss". I always in these situations want to do something more than that, to say smoething more than the obvious, to say something uplifting. So I always say the same thing: "I firmly believe that at length you and your beloved pet will be reunited, forever, in eternal happiness". Though not religious, I firmly believe that, because I must, and because the laws of the universe seem to so indicate. At length, and forever, in this universe in whch nothing is ever created nor destroyed, in which subatomic particles talk to each other across trillions of light years (Einstein's "spooky action at a distance"). I must believe that this unknown to me person who is surely grieving for her put to sleep cat will indeed be ultimately reunited with the pet, and I must brelieve that "the infinitely superior spirit who built the world", "the old dternal genius" of Einsteins' beliefs exists. I can thus simultaneously comfort myself in times of great grief, vicarious or otherwise, and, I can depend on Einstein, not some ancient primitive manuscript. I kept reminding myself that the sweet cat's "owner" was doing the right thing, the only good thing, the thing I have msyelf done all too often. Most people seem to believe that animals know it when they are about to die. I question that. I suspect that we humans are merely superimposing our knowledge upon the animal, projecting, as we say.They seem to know that something big is about to happen, but...death? Can they even conceive of it? We read or hear that some human who died was "surrounded by loved ones" when the transition occurred, when the bridge to forever was crossed, as we say. I wonder about that too. Is that what most people really want, to be surrounded by other people? When I am sick, I prefer to be alone. Before I die, I will be sick, most likely. The cats I have been with as they died seemed to prefer to be alone, in a safe place, away from everybody, rather than in a person's arms. Almost as if to die in a safe unthreatening place is the paramount thing. I have seen them walk away from their owners, the moment before death, almost as if to say: "I love you, but I need to do this without interference". Often people believe that they are about to die, but they do not die. It seems possible that to actually know that you are about to die is nothing more than a lucky guess. I do not think we know much about death, nor anything else. As Eisnstein said: "We don't know one millionth of one percent about anything". But I think we can safely witness that death is normal, natural, and that it, like life constantly is, is a transition from one form of existence to another.