Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Twist of Kane

We should always make time for this.

I recently posted a review of Tanya Donelly’s “Manna” over at FDRMX which resulted in Tanya herself reading it and commenting on it. It made my year. In that review I talked about the preciousness of of life and how every moment we’re dying so we should appreciate life. A week later, my dog, Kane died, because that’s how it works, I guess. He was 12 and would have been 13 in a month. I found him peacefully gone in his bed. He was the first pet I ever had and likely the last because I'm not sure I can do it again. It was heartbreaking, but that’s life/death.

Young and shiny.
When I took his body to the vet for cremation, there was a lady there who I guess had just dropped off her dog to be boarded or something. When she heard my dog had just died she said she was sorry and then asked if I had any pictures. When I said I didn't, she proceeded to show me pictures of her dog on her phone. They weren't even the same breed. It’s the oddest thing I've ever seen anyone do in a situation like that and it made me wonder if this is something she does when people pass. “Sorry about your grandpa. Here’s a picture of mine, though.” It makes no sense. But the more I think about it, what does in that situation, really? “I’m sorry”? For what? You didn't do anything wrong. Unless you killed them which if so, the conversation is not likely going to go well. “Is there anything I can do” is always said by the best people and I don’t say that with any sarcasm, but really, there’s never anything you can do. And I think we all know that. I won’t go into the whole “they’re in a better place” nonsense because that I honestly find insulting. But the truth is, the things we say, none of them are for the benefit of the grieving. These things are only said to make the person saying them feel better. And it’s understandable. Death affects everybody and when we reach out to a grieving loved one, we want to assure ourselves that they’ll be alright, because if they aren't alright, we might not be either. That’s not selfish, that’s the give and take of love.

I know, Kane. I know.
The greatest professor I ever had, for many reasons, not just the one I’m about to mention, once said that he had reached a point where his phrase for the grieving was simply “I don’t know what to say,” because he really didn't. This was coming from a man who was not only incredibly intelligent but was a student of the human condition through literature and culture. If he didn't know what to say, what are the odds there was anything to say at all. He said this before I ever lost anyone, so I didn't fully understand how correct he was, but it has stayed with me all these years later and being on the other end of that when my dad passed away was the first time I learned how right he was. And ever since then I've taken it as my own, but gone a step further. I generally don’t say anything and just offer a hug. The only comfort is living, really.

Anyway, this is a music blog. When we first got Kane, one of my favorite things to do was ride around in my car with him, windows down, blasting metal. Usually Danzig. He was named for Citizen Kane, but still, “Twist of Cain” was kind of the song. He was my devil dog.

Goodbye, Devil Dog.

1 comment:

  1. Such a beautiful send off to Kane. He will be deeply missed by a family who loved him unconditionally. R.I. P. Kane