I think about death an abnormal amount.
Perhaps it’s because I learned about suicide at a very young age, when a relative chose to end his suffering.
Perhaps it’s because of the childhood pets I watched fade away, or the loss of my Grandfather at the age of 12.
But, from the moment that I learned we are each growing closer to that inevitable day…I think about it a lot.
I think about it during funny moments or especially sentimental times, attempting to lock them into my memory.
I’d watch my mom sleep sometimes, my gaze tracing the way her brow sloped to the tip of her nose, fixated on the way the light from the window would bring out a lavender hue on her closed lids. Maybe that’s weird, or freaky, or obsessive but – having lost her in 2015 – I don’t regret it. I don’t regret cherishing her so much that I can still close my eyes and picture her, resting peacefully – her lips trembling on every exhale.
I did the same thing with my father in his final years. I recorded conversations we had and took pictures. I did my best to make him giggle, savouring the sound of his pure joy. I tucked him into bed sometimes, sitting by his bedside and chatting with him until he was on the brink of dreaming.
My fixation with death continues – with the ever present knowledge that any moment with someone may be my last. It’s a very difficult, sensitive, emotional way to live your life.
But, on the upside – I think I appreciate people differently. If I have something kind to say to someone, I don’t hesitate to say it because I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.
Even if it’s a stranger in the grocery story, I’ll say “You’re eyes are gorgeous!” or “I LOVE that outfit on you!” if I sincerely mean it because, that might be the last encounter we have...Why not make it a good one?
I wouldn’t wish my “death fixation” on anyone. There are times when it is overwhelming and scary and sad. But, I would wish the benefits of remembering that life is fleeting, because I live my life in a way where I never regret leaving something unsaid.
If I haven’t seen you in 7 years and I think of you, I’ll reach out on FB and let you know. If we met a week ago and I LOVE your energy and admire your presence, well….I’m not afraid to tell you that, either.
I’ve been told I thank people too much. I thought about it for a while…even TRIED being less thankful. But it didn’t feel true and it didn’t’ feel right and – if being annoyingly thankful is the worst people have to say about me when I’m gone - then I guess that’s not so bad.
That’s right, my fixation on death doesn’t exclude my own mortality.
I think a lot about what I’m doing with my life, where I’m going, what I’ll be remembered for, and I strive to make sure it’s all good. But, I know there are things unsaid to me…things, for better or worse, that will never be voiced until after I’m gone. The memories that will be shared. The way people will describe me to others. The memorials that will be written on social media, or the pictures that will be chosen. I wonder a lot about what thoughts, feelings, and memories will survive me and I struggle to accept that I'll never know. It's tempting to throw a "Celebration of Life" - just to be present for the kind of love people are only comfortable giving after a person has passed. Imagine how empowered we could make each other if we didn't wait till it was too late.
Comments