On Death and Dying

I have been to exactly four funerals and six grave sites in my life. I have buried two pets. I've watched countless movies and television shows where people have died and been put into the ground or had their ashes spread at various sites. Not once have I cried.

I always feel a little weird when death enters my life. I feel like I should feel sadder. Like I should be a sobbing mess on the floor or hiding in my bed with no apatite or will to move. But usually when I find the need to pull out my black slacks and tie, I find myself gently patting someone on the back and handing them a tissue. I find myself stoic and robotic.

It's not that I'm emotionless...in fact, it's quite the opposite. The most recent funeral I went to was that of my Uncle C. He was the second eldest brother of my mother and the father of two of my favorite cousins. At the funeral, I sat beside my brother, J. Not one for seriousness, J was cracking jokes and trying to get everyone's mind off the sadness that overwhelmed them. Me? I found myself thinking things like, "Did my phone just vibrate? If it did, it was probably twitter. I wonder what S is doing right now. She's probably sleeping. Jealous. I wish I was sleeping. I wonder if I'll have time to nap after this. When does Grey's Anatomy start? Next week? Next month? What happened in the last episode? What day is it? Tuesday? Shit, I've gotta make a video for Thursday." Death just doesn't effect me. I don't know if I emotionally cut myself off enough that the loss of their life is not something that brings me to tears or if I just haven't been close enough to those that have died for me to have a true reaction.

I find this to be especially true for pets. Recently, I awoke one night to my mother holding my cat, B, in her arms and sobbing. B was twitching all over and looked scared out of her wits. I asked my mother what's wrong and she said that she didn't know but B was having seizures. At first we didn't know what we were going to do. We couldn't think of what could have possibly happened to the cat to cause this and it came to us that B just might die. My mother, the animal lover she is, sobbed uncontrollably. Me? I just sat there. Petting B, thinking about where we were going to bury her and what we were going to have to say to my brother who was asleep at the time. (By the way, it turns out that my mother had accidentally given B the wrong flea medicine and we took her to the vet. She's doing just fine now.)

Don't get me wrong, I love my cat. I really do. I pet and love on her every day. I snuggle with her in the afternoons and play with her in the evenings. I even give her a proper bath about once a month. But the idea of her dying just really has no effect on me. I suppose something taught me a long time ago that death is a natural part of life and it isn't anything to cry over.

Still though...it'd be nice to feel something at the idea of losing a loved one.

-K