Death

I came home from work to day to find one of the stray kittens my co-worker feeds had been run over. It's mother was still close by, as if wondering what could be done. The image, and the death itself, seemed to trigger a lot of grief and I found myself sobbing. I went and gathered him up in the shrouds used for making umra, the only thing I had in my house that seemed appropriate, though I imagine any local would consider it sacrilegious, when a man dies he is shrouded in the same thing.

I find it strange, or interesting, or something that I would cry so over an animal that wasn't even a pet. I know I didn't cry when my grandfather died, and I can't recall if I cried over my grandmother. Felt grief, yes, let go any bouts of tears? I really can't recall. Some form of Stoicism saying I shouldn't cry over people, or something.

All of which led me to dig up a quote from the Iliad I've always found very moving:

"It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. In his death all things appear fair." - Homer

Comments

Take care of yourself, Kevin.

Eric and I are still here, should you ever wish to talk.

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