Saying Goodbye

Alongside the final departure of our revered Duke of Edinburgh this weekend, I was also quietly saying goodbye to my faithful Labrador of 14 years, Tara.  Although there could not have been more disparity between the two events, in many ways, I reflected that the feelings surrounding their departure were remarkably similar.

We invest a huge amount of emotion into our pets, and they reflect it back to us.  In their own, living, breathing presence they somehow symbolise all that is best about our own human nature in their unstinting loyalty, and trust, and their daily renewed, unbounded love.  In the progression of their years, they run ahead in their youth, seeking out adventure with endless energy; they play with us, and they amuse us.  Sometimes they become parents, and display the nurturing skills they are born to develop; sometimes they are just our companions in our everyday lives, mirroring our own activities.  When they grow old, they walk more slowly behind us; a shadow ever-present, and lie peacefully in their beds.  When we finally have to understand that it is time to let them go, the space they leave behind is palpable. 

The silence in the house this weekend was as great as the presence that had been there, the empty bed, with a dent in its centre, a sad reminder.   In the sunlit garden full of daffodils, shadows played tricks.  Was she still there?  Would she come loping down the hill, tail wagging, looking hopeful?  It takes time to adjust.  Tara was with me through the best and the worst times in recent years; we travelled far together.  She was always at my side.  Now I must move on.  The world has changed.  She was my link back to the past, and that past has now gone.  But my memories will be with me forever.

This is the same grief that we feel when we lose our loved ones.  There is no difference.  It has always been known that the death of a pet is the best rehearsal for human loss, and the way in which we can teach our children about the finality of life.  As I watched the immaculate ceremony to mark the end of Prince Phillip’s life, in all its stunning simplicity and precision, I knew how that family would be feeling - the same sense of bereavement; stunned by the transition, a sense of something truly great having come to an end, conscious of their own unique relationship with the one who has gone, and how much smaller the world will seem without him.  Above all, there would be a sense of immense gratitude for a life well-lived, totally dedicated to others, and energetically lived.  I think the great man himself would have seen the connection with the loss of my labrador, and smiled in agreement.