Twice Removed

       Last Friday my mother died. One week later we learned it is time to put down our beloved 15 year old Lab, Garth.  Mom's death was both expected and unexpected.  Her strength had been declining gradually since the first of the year, then alarmingly, a few weeks ago, when dad said she couldn't lift her legs into the bed or even shift them into a more comfortable position. But I expected a slow decline from nursing home patient to hospice patient, from sleep to unconsciousness, from unconsciousness to death.  Instead she was busy cutting out recipes when Dad came to check on her Wednesday, had a good visit with her senior companion Thursday, and died Friday morning.  Schizophrenia took away my mother 50 years ago, death merely finished the process.  My mother, twice removed.
     Garth also declined gradually, from long walks to short walks, from barking at anyone who knocked on the door to deaf slumber by the door, from treatment options to grim expectations. The same spinal disc deterioration that makes it hard for him to lift his hips is causing bladder weakness resulting in infections.  But we did not put Garth to sleep that dark, one-week-after Friday because the vet could not get to him for two more hours and he was terrified to be there.  We took him home.  The inevitable must happen, but it will happen in the place he loves with the people he loves.
     What I call the beautiful economy of God is the way He uses one circumstance for many purposes. God does not waste suffering.  The simple tears I shed at the thought losing Garth, brought with them the sorrow of the slow, complicated loss of my mother.  Those were unknown emotions I was afraid to feel, sorrow I didn't know how to express--until now.  In the beautiful economy of God, even mourning can be a two-for-one special. Loved ones, twice removed.