My dog, Ranger, is ten years old. For his breed and size, he’s had a long life. He’s been treated very well and has lots of doting neighbor friends. Of course, we all know that when we adopt a dog (or other pet), we’ll most likely outlive them—it is part of the package we accept. But now, because of a bladder cancer diagnosis, I know my dog’s end is relatively near. Reality has hit me in the face—no more hoping for a few extra years. I’ve always enjoyed my dog pal but am now doing so with increased focus—I have accepted “until death do us part” is part of loving the dog. I’m learning to appreciate whatever time Ranger has left with fewer regrets. I’m also learning about living with fewer regrets.
Living and Loving
Because I am starting to face my dog’s inevitable end, I am spoiling him more than ever (if that is even possible). Lucky dog. But what about the other individuals in my life I love or have loved? Why had I not recognized that none of us has a guaranteed number of years or even another tomorrow? Why have I not always treated my loved ones with the tenderness and appreciation I freely give my dog?
“Until Death Do Us Part”
I remember my wedding vows over twenty-four years ago when my late husband and I married. As we exchanged rings, we each said, “Until death do us part.” I don’t think either of us paid much attention to what we were saying.
According to Klein Law, that ancient phrase we often use during wedding vows “was first popularized in the English-speaking world following the first printing of the Book of Common Prayer in England in 1549.” Ironically, we say the words as part of tradition on certain occasions, but we rarely talk about the reality of death. In our culture, it is uncomfortable to speak about death, to think about it, or to even plan for it.
A Terminal Existence
In a 1789 letter to a French scientist, Benjamin Franklin used the now-familiar words, “…in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.” We freely talk about taxes (and probably complain about them), but when they are due, we are hopefully prepared.
As we age, most of us become more aware that our days are limited—we all have an expiration date. This growing awareness may prompt us to do estate planning. Part of our planning may include talking to family members about our wishes or the location of essential documents.
I am inevitably going to die. I may think I have years ahead of me, but then I might only have today. I am comfortable thinking about my own death—the day my time will come. But I am uncomfortable thinking about the reality that my loved ones will eventually be gone—and some sooner than I may expect.
Embracing Life with Fewer Regrets
Even though I knew my late husband had serious health issues and was ten years older than me, I didn’t expect him to die—in my mind, he was going to live for at least another ten years. After watching him take his final breath nine months ago, I thought about all the things I could have/should have done or said. Yet, because I had been his part-time and sometimes full-time caregiver for the last three years of his life, we were able to share more deeply and closely during that time than in our previous years together. Nonetheless, we had some sharp words a week or so before his end.
Yes, statistically, older people are more likely to die before younger people, but that is not guaranteed. Just yesterday, a woman I know shared that she had lost her son to a car accident when he was a teenager. The unthinkable happens.
As we get older, we will lose more people and other ‘individuals’ we love. But we can do our best to live without as many regrets after our loved ones (or we) are gone.
Right now, I’m going to take my old dog for a walk and give him an extra dose of attention when he and I return. Of course, I will miss him when he is gone, but I will have very few regrets.