We had a cat die this morning.  I woke up around 10, walked downstairs like I would on a normal morning and took my clothes I was going to wear and put them in the dryer to get warm.  I journyed down the stairs and walked right past the box and didn't even notice.  I was then eating breakfast and my mom came down the stairs like something was wrong and told me she had something sad to tell me.  I blew it off because sad things to her aren't always that sad to me.  She told me the cat died and it was quite a surprise actually.  I felt a little sad, but not too overwhelmed with grief because I hadn't been too emotionally attached to the animal.  When my mom went back upstairs I was struck with temporary grief because just the day before I noticed the cat on my bed, something she had never done before.  I walked in and smiled at the cat and started petting it then went on my way.  Now she is dead, just like that.  I am greeted by death very often and the more I am greeted, the more I become aware of how fast this life will pass by.  When things like this happen I am often reminded that my silly little existential funks mean nothing compared to turning into dust.  A little line I read a few days ago also helped me become aware of this again.  This is an excerpt from T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland".

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,	20
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,	25
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust