And so my friend Pat has been on my mind a lot. I found him dead from a heart attack the morning of September 22, 2010. He was laying face down in his backyard. I still see his body when I close my eyes sometimes, just in a flash, a beautiful fall day but the harsh sunlight falling on him, unfiltered by the large oaks on the edge of his yard... While the event was unfolding I kept thinking "this isn't real," and the memory of finding him still feels unreal to me. It plays out like a film. Someone else's memory.
I wrote this last year: "I can sometimes be found working at a vet hospital. It's not a "calling" or a "vocation," it's more like an unpleasant pastime that pays the bills. Please don't get me wrong, I love working with animals." The first part of this statement was an untruth, not real, born out of a desire to distance myself from my real life. One must accept that sometimes the truth of what I do for a living haunts me; is so painful I must create distance to avoid losing my fruit completely.
What I do to earn money is, in fact, a vocation, one that I am as dedicated to as some priests are to their chosen religion. One of the doctors I worked with in the past said once that, should anyone question her religion, that she would say seriously with a straight face "I worship the cat." I thought she was being a bit kooky, but now I believe she was on to something.
I don't worship the cat but I do honor the relationship we have with our pets as though it is my religion. It is the single driving force that keeps me working in field of veterinary medicine. The reason I keep returning to this and to the thoughts of Pat is this: Pat LOVED cats and so it naturally combines with this second thought about something I read recently; that a satisfying way to honor a deceased loved one is to strive to be more like them. To find the best part of that person, the part we found most good, and work to display that same goodness.
My friend Pat would help anyone he knew out. He lived to help, I truly think it's what he enjoyed most about life; being needed. And he was so needed, but I never told him so. If there are two things I learned about losing him the first is: the next time someone tells me something is killing them more than once, I am going to take that thing away from them. In Pat's case it was a total re-do of his roof, he stripped it down to the studs and was rebuilding it. But the project just kept taking longer and longer, it stretched into 6 months and he kept telling me "this roof is gonna kill me, kiddo," and I guess it did. The other thing I learned is that I am very bad at telling people how important they are to me, and that I can fix.
This morning I hugged my husband and told him sincerely how very much I love him and how very lucky I feel.
Today would be Pat's birthday. I do believe that Pat remains, in some part, Pat, even on the other side. It is not necessary to be incarnate in order to be one's self. I do believe. So, in Pat's honor I will stroke the office cat even longer today, and I will truly endeavor to be a better person, more like Pat. I will make myself more available to people in need, in order to offer help.
As I collected Pat's cats and found them homes, and helped his distant family manage the details, I said to several people "Pat called in every favor I owed him." I believe those two weeks after his death took several years off the length of my life. But I am truly grateful that I was there to help Pat when he needed me. And that's part of honoring him; that I was there to help, and was needed.
I love you Pat, where ever you are. Happy Birthday.
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