Summer Moon of the First Harvests
Kona lives though her mobility has been greatly diminished. She is, however, alert and responsive. We get down with her and talk to her on a regular basis, letting her know that we love her and are with her in this part of her journey, too. It’s the light in her eyes, the Kona-ness of her presence in those eyes, I think, that forces me not to put it out. At least that’s a big part of it. Another part is not breaking trust. She has trusted me to care for her all these years. To care for her. Not kill her.
If you differ with me on this, I understand. I can see how caring might reach to euthanasia, the whole control around end of life debate has many testimonies to that effect, even in humans. Why I feel so strongly on this is not clear.
It’s strength oddly enough reminds me of one other moment in my life, the one in which I knew I needed to be a parent. It was a strong, primal feeling, dominant. The need became overriding, pushing other concerns into the background. It wasn’t compulsive, at least I don’t think it was, but it was so urgent. The best word I can use to describe it is primal, that is, it came from a part of me so deep that it bypassed subconscious and conscious thought to arrive full borne in my psyche.
The same process has surfaced in me around euthanasia. I have no reasons, no arguments, no explanations. For me, it is forbidden.
Just to be clear, really really clear: there are no religious or political sentiments attached in either case. This is something from the veldt or the cave.
