Animals Understand Death

We are all born, and when we are, we’re already dying. No matter how, no matter when.

We humans, even after scientific discoveries, ghostly encounters, reading about Near Death Experiences, we don’t fully grasp it. Does the human spirit really weigh about two pounds? Are the stories true about NDE? Do children really claim to know their previous life, tell us how they died, and insist on pointing out photos of themselves in albums or online?

Who can say? It’s perspective, and much of that depends on our believes, religion, our education. What did our parents teach our about it?

Our loved ones… we fear abandonment by our loved ones, even when we’re by their side to say a final good-bye. They’re leaving us. They don’t return from this trip, do they? Do they all collect in a place above, or its that belief mythology? Maybe we see them when we die, maybe we don’t. We all have these questions, and it feels even more intense when we’re not there when their body becomes just a body. Did they know we meant to be with them? Were they looking for us to convey a final word, something we should know about? Will they not rest in peace? Will they? Anxiety.

We fear dying ourselves. What are we leaving behind? Are our affairs in order, have we talked to those who’re important to us? Is out plot picked out? Casket or cremation? Who will attend our funeral. What are the thoughts of people we know—are we liked and loved, will we be missed? This is all anxiety. Human behaviour, the human condition. Rarely do any of us truly understand death—our own or another’s.

Animals understand death. They know when they’re dying. They make no plans. They know they will move on from the physical body, and they are only afraid if they were threatened while it happened. But they were afraid of the threat, the pain more the death. This is my humble opinion.

When our pets are not well, and it’s the end, if they go naturally, we find they hid away to be alone.  They didn’t scurry in their last days to gather other pets to their side. If we take them to a veterinarian and stay with them, still, they don’t protest their death. They’re sick, they know. They had no anxiety about this life they lived, heaven or hell as a final place, they just let it go. Maybe it’s painful, and we as pet parents plainly discern that. We cry, we mourn. Yet they accept it as a part of life and how it ends. The transition is difficult, the end result is expected.

Perhaps animals know they’re on a timer when they’re born.

Thanks for reading.

When They Pass, Do They Tell Us?

My writing isn’t to convince any person of anything. I’m merely imparting my observations. Some believe loved ones communicate their parting, and others believe once we pass, that’s it: no more life whatsoever.

When I have had a falling out or simply lost touch with loved ones, something peculiar happens.

Through unfortunate, cruel circumstances, I’d lost touch with my dad. Three days after the funeral I had a dream-like experience and my dad spoke to me. The love permeating my entire being is more than I’ve ever felt. It surpasses human understanding. This love, with absolutely no need to voice, contained no judgement, rather unconditional acceptance.

My dad gave me insightful advice like he always did when he was alive. Peace, profound peace followed the experience. I may expound on it someday, where we were, who was there with us, the significants of the location, and how my dad’s health was restored, and it appeared he was fifteen to twenty years younger, and how I came out of the visit like I was popping up out of deep water, that shooting to the top, buoyed sensation. Another day I’ll take you with words to where I stood with my dad, and why.

Many years ago, a friend who had issues with herself let our friendship go. Time didn’t bring her back. I didn’t think of her much anymore. As the years passed, so did the wound close up. I was sorting files and she abruptly came to mind. Memories started playing like an old film. Vivid recollections of her face and voice engulfed me. I knew this meant I’d never see her in the flesh again. She’d died. I searched Google for an obit for many days, never finding a clue. But I was certain of her passing. Nothing had spurred on recollections of her at the time. No scents, no sights, no emotions. Nothing. I was hyper focused on sorting that day.

Sometime later I was given her obituary by a mutual friend. This confirmed the date of her coming to me with select recollections of notable aspects of our lifelong friendship. We met in grade one and carried our friendship through to our thirties. What changed was her search for a husband, a love of her life. I married first. She was deeply affected that our time together would not be the same since I was raising kids and had a husband to care for. Her letter ended our lifelong connection.

I believe she thought of me during our early years of separation, as I did her. Uncommunicative years passed, yet she came to let me know she abandoned her earthy form. There was no indiction of her after a few days of memories. No more profound thoughts or recurring visions in my head of her appearance. She came to say good-bye, and I don’t know where she is now.

Again this happened, just a week ago. I was engrossed in writing and unexpected memories flooded me about my daughter’s teen years friend. They were besties. It was always purely platonic, and he and I were like a mother and son. I remembered vividly how he thought I looked like Stevie Nicks. He told me this so often, I started examining my reflection, but I’m afraid only he thought so. Words we exchanged on a private walk rang clear. He came from a rough childhood and savoured solid advice.

I was taken back to laughter, tears, and fun shared by him, myself and daughter. We used to crank up Fleetwood Mac and dance our cares away. My husband’s approval of him came to mind during the flood of reminiscences. He never had an objection to my daughter and the good kid being alone in the house at age fifteen. Everyone loved his humour, his honesty, and his compassion.

My daughter called this morning. She just received the news of his passing—last week—February 2. She mentioned she didn’t realize he was saying good-bye last week when she started singing a song they loved together. Memories were hitting her, too. As with me, the going back in time was without reason, nothing caused it.

I should have caught on, and my daughter also since this isn’t the first time someone has called on us one last time.

When they pass, do they tell us? It is definitely real to me, the curious onslaught of recollections with no prompt—loved ones saying good-bye, then confirmation of death. I do believe there is life after death. Where? I don’t know. Heaven? Perhaps. Hell? Could be. A resting place in between? Who really knows? Like you, I’m going to have to wait to find out what the beyond holds as the secret.

Thanks for reading.