Death

Death is inevitable. All living things eventually die. Yet why then is death so hard? Why do people fear death? The answer to these questions can be found by examining American Culture. American culture is based on rugged individualism; Americans like to be dependent and dont want to have to rely on others. Because of this, death scares Americans silly. When we are sick and dying, we rely heavily on others to make it through the day, just take Morrie's caregiver as an example. This reliance on others comes as a shock to Americans, and it scares us. In addition, death is uncontrolable. We Americans like to think we are powerful, that we shape our own destinies. As a result, death, especially the sudden kind, comes as a huge shock to Americans, and makes them exceedingly sad and worried.

I'm glad that we got to approach the topic of death this week, as it is something, due to current events, I exceedingly need to rant about. I apologize if this doesn't stay 100% on topic, but its something I need to share. Late Monday night, at 11:04 PM, my cat Jake died. While most people understand that it is sad to lose a pet, very few people realize how hard this has hit me. Jake was more than a cat to me. As I've been saying to people who have asked about him this week, he was like a father, a son, a best friend, and a brother all rolled into one fuzzy ball of joy. He gave me unconditional love, and was always there for me. Whenever I was having a bad day and felt sad and alone, I could always count on Jake to cuddle up with me and make me feel better. He was the most gentle cat in the world; he never got angry, and always was a joy. Sunday afternoon, I found him lying sideways on the floor moaning my name (literally, he was saying Paul). We rushed him to the animal hospital, but we found out it was too late. His liver had failed, and when they tried to pump fluid into him to restore him, they found cancerous tumors throughout his body. Jake fought hard, and he managed to defy odds and make it through the night for my mother to get back in town to see him. By Monday night though, he was in an oxygen cage in order to give him enough air to breathe. We knew he wouldn't last the night, and we didn't want him to die scared and alone. We took him over to a visiting room, and cuddled with him. 30 minutes later, he died in my arms. This has been an exceptionally rough week for me, as having anyone close to you die would be. I could end this as usual by tying my personal experience back into the lesson of the week, I certainly have a way to do that in mind. But I'm not going to. I feel like it would be a disservice to Jake's memory if I simply used his death as an easy way to complete an assignment, and that is definitely something I'm not prepared to do. I will however tell you that death is hard, and it is not pretty. You go through life taking everyone for granted; you don't realize how truly blessed you were until they are gone. Whether that's actual sociology or just my observation, I don't know, but I'm prepared to live with it either way.