Death, Dying & Falling in Love

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

I had a dream the other night that my cat died; that I was gone traveling and returned home to find his tiny body cold and hard. My cat is not, however, dead. He’s sitting next to me as I write this, his perfect tawny head resting against my knee.

Sometimes I dream about my boyfriend dying too, and wake up in cold sweats, sitting up to see if he’s still there. Sometimes, when my cat is asleep, I stare at his furry white belly to see the barely perceptible rise and fall of his breath. I just want to know he’s still here with me. I just want to be sure. My therapist called this “anxiety,” but I don’t feel anxious. I feel sad and curious and a little bit amazed. Death is one thing none of us have a solid grasp on. It’s the one great unknown that also serves as the one great equalizer.

When you love someone and they die, who is to say what happens to all that love? It’s still there, I am sure of that. But it has nowhere to land, no hard, tangible thing to grasp onto. Maybe the love dwindles over time. Maybe, we repurpose it and give it to someone (or something) else. Maybe we slowly forget, and subsequently, feel bad for forgetting.

Death is scary and loss is scary and there is no loss more final than death. The reality of an end is just as uncomfortable as it is obvious…