When I received word a few years ago that
my childhood babysitter had been diagnosed with a fast growing cancer, I jumped
in my car and drove 45 minutes so I could say goodbye. It's always strange to
say goodbye to someone you love when you know it is for the last time in this
physical life. What do you say? "I love you... Thanks for loving me... Are
you scared?... Don't be... What are your favorite memories of our time together?...
What are mine?... Do you remember when?... I'll see you soon..."
Yep. All
of the above. You hug and laugh and cry and hold hands and stare into one
another's eyes a lot. She asked me to sing to her. I did. Then she asked me to
sing that same song at her funeral. I agreed. She died the next week. I
attended the funeral and sang for her the songs she had requested. I was cocky
and thought that I wouldn't cry but standing above her casket a flood of
childhood memories washed over me and I was emotional from start to finish.
This
woman had watched over me as a child. She had played the piano and hide and
seek with me. She put flowers on my own sister's grave every year. She was
only, like, 56 years old. She had a constant smile that masked a hundred pains
that I'm not sure how many people in her life actually knew about. And she is
the only person that I know who loved chocolate more than I do.
When
someone dies it is natural that we think about death. What is it like? Where do
we go? What is the point? And then we think about life. How are we living it?
How can we live it better? And, yes… Why are we here? The roundabout point of
this post is best made in a story that was told at her funeral. When my
babysitter/friend was about five years old, her family moved to a new town. She
wanted to have a birthday party but her mother told her it would be hard
because they had just moved there and they didn't know anyone. You can't really
have a party with no friends. She left the house and came back about an hour
later followed by several neighbors. "Mom, these are my new friends. Can I
have my party now?"
This
story both delighted me and caused a shift. I had spent so much of my life
grieving and in pain and stuck in the spin cycle of all my victim stories. Like
so many others, especially those spiritually and/or religiously minded folk, I
had spent FAR more time focused on life before this one and life after this one
than I ever spent focused on the life I was living right here and now. Life, I
realized, was a big, fat parade that was passing me by. And, for the first time
in my life, that wasn't okay.
"It
is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to
live." - Marcus Aurelius
I began
to ask myself a series of questions that eventually led to one, singular
inquiry. What does it really mean for me to be alive? What does being
vibrantly, joyously, deliberately ALIVE look like for me? And, was I willing to
do what it would take to get there? Was I willing to look at what I needed to
look at, let go of what I needed to let go of, for Life to finally flow freely
through my veins? I was willing and I did what I needed to do. And then, as
though Life itself became aware that I had finally chosen to live it, I
instantly found myself surrounded by an orchard of brand new possibility
blossoms in the most glorious emotional springtime. And nothing has been, or
will ever be, the same again. Hot damn.
Do you
know what being alive means for you? What it looks like for you? If not, figure
it out! It will be the single most worthwhile thing you have ever done. Life is
your birthday party. If it’s lacking something you want - go out and get it.
Make it. Meet it. Create it. Demand it. Don't rest until you have it.
NOTE TO
SELF: Stop being fascinated by near death experiences. Focus on having near
life experiences instead. Just a thought.
