We dropped off our sweet girl, Jett, at the eternal dog park on Thursday.  She would have been 13 in March and she joined our family when she was 10 weeks old.  She gave large, slobbery kisses, made sure we left the house with her hair on us somewhere, was always happy to see us come home, and occasionally snored in symphony with JJ.  She loved to ride in the car and was well traveled – she went with us to Colorado and Arizona, including a walk along the edge of Grand Canyon.  She hated the kennel and was good friends with our house sitter.  Our house feels very empty and I find myself still looking for her when someone rings the doorbell or it’s time to go to bed.  She was our “child” and we’ll miss her dearly.

Death is ______________ (fill in the blank):  confusing, saddening, maddening, inexplicable, traumatic, sometimes predictable, sometimes unpredictable, inevitable, a relief, peaceful, closure, completion, a celebration.  Death can be any combination of these emotions, depending on the circumstance.

I have been to seven funerals/memorials in my life. My first encounter was in 7^th grade – one of my classmates had a brother who was hit by a car while on his bicycle.  I went to the funeral with a friend and her mother.  My friend cried quietly through most of the service and looked over at me once with a look of puzzlement since I didn’t cry that day.  I think at 13 I wasn’t quite sure how to process the whole experience, but I remember feeling badly for my classmate, who was a macho kind of guy – he suddenly looked so much smaller and I had never seen him cry before.

The rest of the services I have attended have all been in the last 10 years (my grandfather, a family friend who lived with us for a short time while I was in high school, my dad’s business partner and her husband (at different times), and two of my sister’s children.  Each time I have had a different response.  My grandfather’s service was a celebration.  He lived to be 96 years old and died of old age.  He was in the Army during WWII, was married to my grandmother a few months shy of 66 years, was a doctor, flew a Cessna and had 3 children and 7 grandchildren who all loved him.  There were no tears that day either.  His memorial was a reminder of a life well lived.

The three family friends were more somber as they were all disease process related – cancer or the like.  They were all in their 70s or 80s, which no longer seems as old as it once did.  Their services felt more like I was there to be support for the surviving family members (does it strike anyone else as odd that the words “survived by” are typically used in an obituary?  I think I would rather have my obituary read something like “leaves a legacy of” or “was loved by”).

My sister’s children were a much different experience.  I felt a profound sense of loss and grief, both for the pain that my sister and her husband and daughter went through and for the two precious lives that never had the chance to begin.  Many tears were shed over many days.  My nephew and niece’s birthdays are today and tomorrow, so we remember them especially this time of the year.

For our sweet girl, her ceremony was a few quiet moments in the vet’s office with just the two of us.  Thursday afternoon was the first time I witnessed the loss of life in person.  She very peacefully went to sleep and I am comforted that she is not in pain anymore.  Leaving her on the table in the vet’s office was ranks up there with one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.

My dad came over Wednesday evening to say goodbye and took some pictures for us.  Here is one of my favorites from that night.  We love you, Jett.