What does death look like when he starts hanging around another being? What does he do in the meantime while the being they are waiting for is not quite ready to leave? What does he take away from us while he waits to bring us home and why is this something that we are privy ever to see? The only thing that we are worthy of is the devastation that will be left behind when it is all over.

As we age out towards eternity some of us get trapped inside of our brains. We don’t recognize the world as we have come to know it and it is uncertain who it is we have come to be. I have watched this happen on more than on occasion and it is something that will alter your thinking and make you go insane.

It’s like your will to live vanishes. Everything that used to bring your happiness you can’t bare to do anymore. All you want to do is sleep so you no longer have to find the energy to move. You roll over hoping that the beings that came to visit you will have enough common sense to go away.

You will cry in your sleep as your unconscious reality begins to sink in. Your time is quickly coming although there is no way of knowing exactly so we all just get to keep our wits about us so our angel can finally receive their wings and fly.

So what does death look like? It’s our beloved senior dog whose greatest satisfaction is meal time. As soon as that kibble hits the bowl his tale begins to wag. He is the first one up in the morning anxiously waiting for his breakfast because as a rescue there was time when it came to meals that he wasn’t so sure.

He would eat the other dogs meals too if he would have his way. He is a big ol love bug that still has a little bit in him to play…until yesterday. It was meal time and he just looked at me like he couldn’t get up. His tale didn’t even move he just looked up at me and then he decided to stand up. He bashed his head into the wall as he toppled over on his side. Everything inside of me knew what was coming and all I wanted to do was run and hide.

He managed to eat but that was all he had the strength for then he crumbled into a heap that I couldn’t get off the floor. Of course I started crying. It is who I am and what I do. I feel everything on the outside. I am sorry but it’s all that I can think of to do.

I woke up my husband and he told me to go away. I remember the flashes of my other pets that he treated me to in the same way. Barney died in my arms as he seizured and took his last breath. The same rang true with Cinnamon so my imagination leaped to what could be coming next. By this time my son was wanting cuddles so there was no more I could do. I hoped he would be ok. He looked like he was sleeping so I went upstairs to go and cuddle my boo.

Then it happened. The screams for my husband to get my butt downstairs. My dog had dragged himself to underneath the table to try and shield us for what was to come next. I can’t imagine the pain that he is feeling because I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t want death to take him, he truly doesn’t want to say goodbye.

He used to live a life outside where he would get beaten by his previous owner to no end. You can tell by the scars that his lips were severed and it breaks me to know that he is coming to his end. We have spent 3 plus glorious years with him and he was always my best friend. There is nothing more comforting then big B so I have no choice but to be here for him because he needs me.

My husband was able to get him to the couch and he hasn’t moved in 12 hours. He still responds to touch and wags his tale a little and lets out a sigh that he is comfortable. What do we do? I know death is here. You can tell by the energy in the room that has been taken over by fear.

C’mon Jimmy bring us home, “This is the end, beautiful friend. This is the end, my only friend. It hurts to set you free. You will never follow me. The end of soft laughter and lies. The end of nights we tried to die.” I grew up on the doors. His lyrics just resonated deep inside of me in ways that normal society refused to feel.

Sometimes we are lucky and death comes swiftly and other times it comes so slow that we deny that he is coming. We refuse to see the signs even as they hit us square in the face. Why would we want to acknowledge something that is going to interrupt our whole life? Not interrupt but rip our life right off the hinges. There is something about the unknown that makes it almost impossible for us to acknowledge even in the last moments so we hang our heads low in disgrace.

What does death look like? Why I think he is in the faces of all of our family and friends. There is a clock that is always ticking for us and will keep doing so until the day that we get too old. Why is it we are scared when we are all destined to go through the same thing? I think it has to do with the unknown and all the uncertainty with it that death brinks.