In the end

I don’t particularly care for the expression “at the end of the day.”

It’s become cliché. Almost an unconscious replacement for “um” or “ah,” used almost exclusively to prevent a potentially uncomfortable silence. It conveys no real meaning. It often isn’t even pertinent to the larger thought being expressed. In short, I’m not a fan of the phrase. And yet, ultimately everything ends.

For creatures that measure their lifespans in decades while living on a planet where time is often better measured in multiple millennium, the concept of the end can be challenging. It comes on too fast. It’s unavoidable. It’s just plain hard to accept. 

At my house we’re struggling with an ending today.

This is the second time in just three months that we’re faced with this particular ending. You see, we lost one of our rescue dogs to old age a few months ago. A miniature poodle named Marnie. She was abandoned and a mess when we took her in. Her time with my family was a significant improvement for her and us. Vet visits, grooming appointments, and a special diet developed just for her made her a minor royal in dog terms. Then one night she got sick. By morning she was gone. 

The end can come heartbreakingly quick.

On Friday of last week another of our pups fell ill. After spending the weekend at the emergency vet’s office on the other side of the county, my daughter and wife transported her to our regular vet this morning. The news was not good. Cascading organ failures and a massive seizure made the logical course of action clear.

Lola has reached the end of her road. At noon today (Monday, May 18, 2020) she’ll be put to sleep. Her family will be by her side. We will cry. We will grieve, as we’re already doing. Because an ending has come. One that is as unavoidable as it was unpredictable. 

That’s true of so many endings, isn’t it? They are unavoidable, yet unpredictable.

One day the end will come for me, too. The physical one. The end that will result in a sunrise that doesn’t include me climbing out of bed to irritate or entertain those around me.

But that’s not the only ending I’ll experience. Nor is it the only ending you’ll experience. There are so many for us to consider. Many we can prepare for, if we choose to.

Hence, the great paradox of life. We can choose, or we can choose not to choose. In either case, we will have made a choice.

Should I fly today? That’s a common choice I make. It’s something I do as often as I can. Something I enjoy tremendously. I’ve flown for decades now and so I’d like to think I’m reasonably good at it.

A line of thunderstorms is working its way through my neighborhood at the moment, but they’ll be gone by this afternoon. The air will be still, the winds will be calm, visibility will be unlimited — but today is not my day to get airborne. I’m too emotionally distracted by the plight of our Lola to focus on the task of piloting an aircraft today. At least for the moment it would be irresponsible for me to choose flight.

If the family member being lost was someone else, someone human — my mom, for instance, or my wife, or a child — the period of time when I should not fly would be extended. Substantially so, in fact.

Knowing that in advance is important. It matters. Especially if you fall into the large category of pilots who happen to be male.

Grief is something we humans struggle to control. Men are particularly susceptible to the emotional turmoil of loss, because we’ve often been trained to express a limited spectrum of emotions in public.

Fear? Nope, to acknowledge fear is unmanly. Grief? Absolutely not. Real men don’t cry. Anger, aggression, frustration, or humor? Sure, those are perfectly reasonable emotions for men to have on public display. But not grief. Cover that up, boy. You’re embarrassing yourself. 

That’s nonsense, of course. We all have emotional reactions to the world around us. To life in general. To specific events that leave a mark on our psyche. To memories that we either cherish or struggle with.

Knowing that our emotional condition affects our intellectual acuity on a daily basis is important. It informs our decision-making — our capacity for making good choices based on reason, not merely on habit, arbitrary scheduling, or peer pressure.

You and I will face many endings in life. Our careers will likely come to an end at some point. Our capacity to fly will reach a point where it is better to stay on the ground than launch into the air. Our marriages will end, through death or legal proceedings. And yes, eventually our lives themselves will reach their ultimate conclusion.

That’s just the way it is. Accept it. Prepare for those endings in advance. That preparation and planning can play a role in easing us through any transition, whether happy or sad.  

Today I will say goodbye to a furry family member that has brought joy and affection to us for the past several years. I can’t even write that simple line without tearing up a bit. Today will be hard, but it will pass. Life will go on. The world will be short one absolutely wonderful dog, but it will still go on. 

And that’s the ultimate point isn’t it? In the end, there is no ending. It’s just that the story from here on out will take a different turn. In the meantime, I’ll cherish the memories that bring me joy. I hope as much for you and yours. 

The sun will rise. Life will go on. We will all adapt to whatever comes our way as best we can. 

Onward.