The Quiet Wisdom of Acceptance

Recently, our old Basset hound has been struggling with arthritis, and the supplements and baby aspirin help, but there are still days she has a hard time, especially when it is cold. She was sleeping on her soft bed and blanket next to our bed last night, when she decided she wanted to go sit outside. It was one o'clock in the morning, and it took her a long time to make it to the back door with me , so I could let her into the backyard. She slowly made it to a rhododendron bush , that was in very close proximity to a large fern, and managed to get under them, making it look like she was resting in a very lush green tent. The rain had slowed to a mist, and bright stars were flickering through thin white clouds. The frogs were out in force, their relentless chorus filtering cheerfully from the back forest. It was a beautiful night. Perhaps Lafayette knows this might be her last spring, so she wants to make sure she enjoys every moment of it. Her peaceful acceptance of her discomfort and old age, remind me of how our sweet Labrador, Napoleon, accepted so peacefully her last summer, when she was diagnosed with bone cancer. She would go sit by the greenhouse at night, under the moon and stars, and I would join her, and we would sit quietly together, our hearts one in the acceptance of her nearing death. Lafayette seems, 5 years after Napoleon's death, equally at peace with her diminishing physical abilities.The mystery of life and death is one which animals seem to accept with more grace and wisdom than most people I can think of. Perhaps because we are out of touch with the physicality of death. It is an organic process, and if you are close to nature and its ways, death is a natural happening, the other side of the same coin that is the mystery of existence. Lafayette stayed outside the entire night, something she never does, and I would check on her every couple of hours, since I decided I could not go to sleep, not knowing if the rain would eventually return in torrents. It did not, and after checking on her one more time, at about 4:45, bleary eyed, I went to bed, because I had to get up again at 6:30 that morning. She ended up staying out there until 1o'clock in the afternoon, when it started to rain hard. She seemed very glad she had spent the night outside. I was exhausted, but happy I had witnessed her insistence to do this, knowing she was not sure of how much time she had left. I would like that, when I get very ill, and my time is close, to spend the night under the stars, at peace with myself , life and death, and knowing my family too, in support, are equally at peace with the end. That is a big piece of the acceptance, to know those you love, love you enough to accept it is your time to leave this earth. That acceptance is soothing, calming, freeing to the one who has to come to terms with the fact their life is nearing its end, regardless of our philosophical, religious, existential outlook. The quiet wisdom of acceptance, the wisdom of love.