Saturday was a day for me to examine loss. I spent much of the morning with a couple of students from the lab of Dr. Travis Beck, I learned of the passing of my dad’s cousin, Larry, and my dog passes a short time before I arrived home from my travels. It was a day of grief, but it also presented the opportunity for celebration.
We tend to look at death as leaving a void in our heart. We feel emptiness and loss. We focus on the passing rather than all that we have received. We tell others “I am sorry for your loss”, when we really should be encouraging them to “celebrate what you have received”.
I wrote a while back (see “Mentors”, April 6, 2017) about my relationship with Dr. Beck. I could not be where I am today in my research without his help and friendship. He had an incredible impact upon his students. There was not one that I talked to at the conference who was not visibly emotional in talking about him. His life, as all the lives that touch us, was impacting. He left a visible impression upon his students. One student commented that he has left behind so much data from his work that his students intend to keep his name out there (in publications) “for the next ten years”. The intend to turn the loss into gain. As I talked to these students, it was apparent to me that there is no void resulting from Travis’ passing. Rather there is a spark of energy—a fire—than will be passed on.
The passing of my cousin is hard on my dad. They are close in age and grew up together. They had a rocky childhood, but become close in their adult years. My dad commented that he keeps thinking about “what could have been”. I hope that I can steer him toward “what was”. After all, they did have many good years of friendship and had a significant impact on one another. In the end, we have to celebrate what we had and not focus on what we did not or would not have.
I cannot be sad over the passing of my dog. Pete was with me for 16 years. That is a very long life for a Labrador retriever. He was a happy dog. He did not suffer in the end (at least not that was in anyway visible). He was a great dog. He gave us 16 years of unconditional love. For what more can I ask? It is hard for my children, particularly my 9-year-old daughter, but I am encouraging them to celebrate Pete’s life. They have never been without him in their lives. They have known no time without Pete. He has given them so much love, and, of course, there is a feeling of loss. Greater though is the gain.
In death, we feel loss because someone has been taken away from us. In our minds, they have been taken too early. This thinking is selfish on our part. We want to hold onto them for eternity—and we can. We can hold on to the memories. We can allow them to live through us. We can carry on the mentorship, the friendship, the unconditional love. Thus, our loss is indeed gain.
I am who I am because of the lives that have touched me—human or otherwise. I lose nothing in their passing for what has not happened is not lost. I have, however, gained more than I might ever comprehend. I am blessed and have been blessed. If only there were a better way to express this than “I am sorry for your loss”.