Aunt Donna and her children experienced a bittersweet day yesterday. June 17 marked her birthday and doubled as Father’s Day. But my cousins’ father died last fall, and Hugh was not around to be given cards or hugs of congratulation.
Suffice to say, they cried a lot.
Josie died yesterday, too. To Josie, Hugh was her best friend; and to the rest of the family, Josie was a shining example of unconditional love between a person and a dog.
Following the mantra of bad luck appearing in threes, Grandma perceives Josie’s death as symbolic to join Hugh.
I take a different perspective, as I don’t believe in (bad) luck or coincidences.
I believe everything happens for a reason. I’ve felt this way for some 15 years. It’s not quite fate, which implies predetermination, but is more aligned with destiny, which Wikipedia describes as willful participation. The saying, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” is anti-fate but helps pave destiny.
Yesterday was Josie’s time to fall from grace and enter a different life of dignity. When one dies, human or animal, the body may remain but the soul drifts on. The body is like a conduit between one’s birth and one’s death; life is the stuff in between. And, life goes on. How, I don’t know, but I am comforted by the belief if one has a will, there is a way.