Rani.
She came into my life when after years of crying and pleading, my family decided I could have an animal companion.
She began by being dad and my favorite, and then in no time, became my mother and sister’s favorite too.
16 years…that’s a long time. She lived past the average 12–13 years and lived a full life. She traveled to a lot of places with us. Saw some of our most eventful family moments. And she lived through her old age under my mother’s loving care. And yesterday, on October 25th 2022, four months before her 17th birthday, she passed on.
I received the news with both tears and a sense of relief. The last one year has been tough on her. She lost her hearing, her memory. She stopped barking or showing any signs of excitement. Most of her time was spent sleeping. There were days she needed help to eat or to pass urine. We all knew it was getting harder for her and didn’t want her to go through more pain. Yet, knowing that this was best for her didn’t make accepting her passing easy.
And today, as I think about her and her journey, I realize so much about love, life and loss.
Loss will hurt no matter how prepared you are for it
As a family, we all prayed that she not go through too much suffering. The last time I held her in my hand, I told her that it was okay for her to leave now. But that didn’t cushion the impact of the bad news for me. I realized no matter how much you prepare yourself for it, you have to go through the grief, no matter what.
Old age is tough
I have seen her go from an active dog to an old one with limited mobility and no shine in her eyes. She could hardly express her excitement after a while. And then slowly she stopped recognizing all of us, walking aimlessly around the house, waking up to only have her meals and pass her motions. And that was sad to see.
I realize old age is tough and not just for her but for all of us. I saw in her journey what could be every one of our journeys if we live that long. It is going to be hard in a lot of ways. And there’s nothing to do but accept it as the ultimate inevitability of life.
Love can be unconditional
And I just don’t say it in Rani’s context. We all love animals because their love comes without conditions. But I’m talking about my mother. I have seen her love for Rani not change even as Rani lost her ability to express love — be it in the way she greeted us, sat in our laps or followed us around the house. I saw that my mother’s love for her wasn’t dependent on her expression of love for my mother. I could learn a lot about love from my mother and Rani.
Could we have done more?
There will be a lot of things you will question in the aftermath. Most of all, you’ll wonder if you could have done more or done something differently. My mother wished she had known Rani was passing and spent more time with her. But in the end, it is important to be able to know that we have done our best. Else, the sea of guilt can be hard to swim out of.
We could get another dog?
But no one can replace her. That’s the thing about love. We have hearts so big and love so great that we can give it out to a lot of people. But no one can replace anyone else. There is a place for everyone in our lives and with death, a piece of us will be gone with them forever and no one can replace or fill it. And that’s just the way it is.
Rani, you’ll be deeply missed. But you will always hold a special place in our hearts forever.
Rani
Feb 2, 2006 — Oct 25, 2022
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