A Letter to My Son on Death

Back when my kids were small, I used to write them occasional letters. When my son was only two, our dog, Woosha, had to be "put to sleep". She had stomach cancer, and was in great pain. I ran across this letter to my son the other day, and thought I would pass it on to you. Now, I wish I had written more to my kids, especially on the major issues of their young lives. And I wish I were more eloquent in these letters. But this is a sense of what I did once in a great while for my kids, and still do on a very irregular basis.

November 29, 1991

Dear Mark,

Today is the day after Thanksgiving. Last night, we went over to the Teilhet's for dinner, since we are so far from our own family. We ate dinner with Jim and Diane Laturner, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Pearl, and Tom and Linda Teilhet. Tony Lanera came over later to say hello. You played with the Teilhet's two dogs, Sparky and Skipper. They are blond cocker spaniels, just like our dog, Woosha.

That brings me to today. We took Woosha to the animal hospital because she was very sick. Before we took her to the hospital, we took her for a long walk around the library, and played with her some in the church playground behind our house. We took her to the hospital to put her to sleep, so she wouldn't have to suffer any longer. She had a large tumor growing in her stomach, and there was nothing that the doctors could do. We are all very sad today. We said goodbye to a good friend. We will miss her.

As I sit here in the front room, I look around and see many things that remind me of Woosha. I see the window she used to sit by, watching for the mailman or some cat or squirrel. I also see her numerous noseprints on those windows! I see her leash and her shovel, with which we would pick up her poopings when we went for a walk. I see the old chair that she would often curl up in for a long sleep every day. Woosha loved to sleep. I see one of my socks, and am reminded of when Woosha was a puppy. She and I would get into great tug-of-wars with a pair of my old socks. In a matter of minutes, there would be gaping holes in the socks, due to Woosha's sharp teeth.

Of course, I also remember some of the less pleasant things. I remember when she jumped up on the kitchen table and ate the filling out of a pumpkin pie. When we got home, her stomach was very bloated. She must have pooped pumpkin for three days! I remember holding her as she had one of her infrequent seizures, and she lost control of all her bodily functions. But all the while, she looked at me with eyes filled with love and sorrow and a little confusion. They seemed to say "What is happening to me?"

You will probably not remember Woosha, so I will give you some more background information. She was a blond cocker spaniel, whose official name was "Our Happy Woosha." Grandma and Grandpa Bruce bought Woosha for your mom and me back in 1983, when your mom and I were living in San Jose. They had come to dinner, and after dinner we went to look at puppies in the mall. We went to see a little blond male cocker, but then discovered Woosha. She was small, but was very excitable and energetic. When we took her out of her cage, she ran around crazily wagging her tail, and licking/biting everything she could. We were hooked, and we brought her home.

We kept debating on what to name her. At the time, Grandma and Grandpa Bruce had an Ethiopian woman living with them, named Lem Lem. We asked her what the Ethiopian words were for blond, and there were none. We asked for several more words, and they were all impossible to say. Finally, we asked Lem Lem what the Ethiopian word for dog was, and she said "Woosha." That was it! We had her name! It has been good for a lot of conversations.

Initially, she slept in her own room, a laundry room that had no washer nor dryer. We made a bed for her with an old wooden orange crate with a pillow in it. She would sleep there every night, and every day when your mom and I went to work. Almost every night we would take her for a walk down to the 7-11 type market. We would buy some ice cream cones, and give her the last few bites. She loved it. We would also take her to the high school soccer field just up the street. Your mom and I would stand about 40 yards apart, and call to her. She would run full speed to me, and then plop herself down in the cool green grass, panting happily. Then your mom would call her, and Woosha would run to her. She would do this until she could barely stand, and we would often have to carry our exhausted puppy home.

Those were happy days. We didn't have lots of money, but we had each other and a loving, happy puppy. Woosha loved to play in the garden in back of the house. She also loved to run out of the side gate and into our next door neighbors house, which she always kept open!

When we moved to Pasadena so I could finish school at Fuller Theological Seminary, Woosha came too. We lived with another couple in a big house at 815 N. Mar Vista Avenue in Pasadena. Bob and Martha had a daughter named Elizabeth when they lived with us, and had another daughter, Sharon, just before they left for Hong Kong. Elizabeth was about your age when she lived with us, and she was fascinated with Woosha. They were good buddies, just like you and Woosha were. They would chase each other around the house, and the big back yard. It was in Pasadena that Woosha started sleeping in your mom and dad's room. She eventually began sleeping on our bed with us. Usually she slept at our feet. But sometimes in the morning, we would find her curled up between our heads.

She was a good dog. She loved to chase her ball. The only ball she ever really liked was this blue ball she had as a puppy. We bought her all sorts of balls, but she never played with them. Today, as I look at that old blue ball, it hardly looks like a ball. But it was Woosha's ball, and as your got older, you began to throw it for her. Your aim was lousy, but you still threw it, and never got tired of giggling with glee as she chased it. You especially liked it when she ran into the kitchen and slid on the linoleum floor.

When you began to eat in a chair, Woosha was always right under your feet, hoping that you would drop some food for her. She was frequently rewarded as you learned how to eat with your fingers, and then with a spoon and fork. Sometimes, you would drop a Cheerio and Woosha would pounce on it immediately. You would get sad and cry, saying that Woosha had your Cheerio. And for a long time, you kept expecting us to get it from Woosha, even though she had already inhaled it! You finally learned that what Woosha got, she kept.

In the same way, we have dropped Woosha into God's hands. And like you, we cry, hoping that somehow God will give her back to us. But she is not coming back. It is OK to be sad and to cry. It will take a while for us to get used to her being gone. But we will be OK. And we know that she is OK too. She is no longer suffering, but is at rest.

Some day you may ask if dogs go to heaven. You may wonder if we will see Woosha, or some of our other dogs in heaven. I think so. God not only loves us, he loves animals as well. He made them, too. And the animals that we love are especially loved by out Lord. The Bible talks repeatedly of God being like a shepherd who loves his sheep, and is willing to risk his life for his sheep. Job talks of God delightfully "playing" with the great sea monsters. So I think that God is as fond of animals as we are, and that some day we will be reunited with Woosha.

Woosha always welcomed us warmly when we came home. She was always happy to see us, and always wagged her stumpy little tail when she saw us. Sometimes, she wagged her tail so fast that her whole body shook. We will miss her.

Undoubtedly, you will have quite a few questions in the next few weeks. After your nap today, you were careful not to put your apple juice on the floor so that Woosha would not get it. Your mom and I smiled, although we felt like crying. We will do our best to answer your questions, and help you get over this, the first real loss in your young life.

And so I close. We love you very much, Mark. Until next time.

Dad

Where Neither Moth nor Rust, Nor Hungry Dog

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal."

I was reminded of this a few days before Christmas, when I foolishly left my wallet on a small table. Our dogs got to it, and when I next glanced at my wallet, it was on the floor, and all the money had been taken out by the dogs!

I discovered a pile of money by the side of the house the next morning, most of it chewed to bits. And, of course, the one dollar bills were in pristine shape, only the larger bills were chewed up. You can see the remnants of two fives and a twenty above.

I discovered that in order for a damaged bill to be good, it had to have one and a half serial numbers. There is a serial number in the upper left of each bill, and the lower right. If one serial number is intact, and half the other number, it is OK. If less than half of one serial number exists, the bill has become worthless.

I am reminded of this today as well because my younger brother, Dave, had a stroke on Saturday night. He is a fire captain, and only 50 years old. (Which used to sound really old!) He is in the hospital in the Bay Area, and seems to be doing OK, though it is too early to tell the extent of any permanent damage, if any.

Dave and his family all go to a wonderful church in Danville, and they are well prayed for. Their lives belong to Jesus, and they have invested in eternal things, like their relationships with people. I really think Dave knows or has helped half the people in the Bay Area. When I have visited him, and we have gone to Home Depot, he usually is greeted by half the people in the store. People he has helped in one way or another.

My heart goes out to Dave and Karen and the girls, and we trust in the Lord that things will turn out well for them. I do not want to lose my baby brother!