Tragedy struck our family suddenly, as it sometimes does, with no real warning signs or portents. One moment, contentment, a morning ritual of oatmeal and coffee, conversation about daily plans, and then a new moment – horror, blood, panic, and my oatmeal bowl in mid-air, suspended. That instant, so short so brutal, shattered us. Driving, driving to the animal emergency clinic – is this too fast? This is too slow – get in that lane – stave off panic, full of dread and fear, breathe in, breathe out dare to hope. So sorry, so sorry, no words to capture the sorrow.

The history – years of love and effort and training with a much loved but unpredictable dog with and for whom we worked so hard (not hard enough?), and a greatly treasured older cat who ruled our home like a feisty queen, and from whom the dog always backed down, isn’t the point here. But that history was the the fabric of our home, our life. Much effort, so much love and constant awareness. Years and years of vigilance, training and exercise wasn’t enough, and now we lose two beloved beings in one short time. We live with that, we grieve, we work to move beyond remorse and guilt.

During one of the many trips to the hospital, (so many, an eternity in a few days) I think – this is why we need a heaven. This yearning to know that loss isn’t how we end, that there is some goodness waiting to counter this searing pain. That hope would help with my sorrow, with my anger, with my guilt and regret. To know that my beings will live again, free of pain, happy. To be sure that the damage led to perfection. My yearning tastes of tears, so sorry, no words.

I don’t think the biggest difference between people is a belief in God or not. I know too many people who seek God who are also full of compassion, kindness and a desire to help themselves and others. I know too many atheists who are strident and arrogant, and I also can say the opposite. For me the two are different languages that ask the same question – how do we live with compassion and openness. What gives us meaning in the midst of suffering, what helps us to grow? Both stances can do that, and sometimes neither – thus the question of which is better is flawed.

During all this pain (because of it?) I thought a lot about the discussion on this site regarding friendship between god people and non-god people. What I seek in friendship and connection is simply connection and a desire for compassion and understanding. I expect an ability to build a bridge between difference, regardless of the material. When a person is so attached to a belief that it becomes a bludgeon and a barrier to understanding, the belief itself causes a problem, but isn’t the problem. Attachment is the problem, as it so often is. We cling to things that comfort us in the face of the unknown, or in the midst of pain. That clinging is human, but it can hold us back from becoming, from learning, from peace. When we think we already have truth in our back pocket we can’t learn any more, and then we are limited. We can be so attached to what we know we may miss the truth before us.

My yearning for an afterlife where my beloved beings are happy and beyond the pain comes from such an attachment. I grieve for myself, for my loss, for my regret as much as I grieve for their suffering and dying. Eventually I must let go of my guilt and anger, and sorrow – they steal my present, and tarnish my memories. They take my joy, and there was so much shared. We had good lives together, and now, even after they are gone, they are helping me understand. For that I am grateful.