“He asked me if I thought he’d make it: survive his surgery. ‘Yes, I do’, I replied clear and plain. ‘There’s still a lot for you to do.’
He said he wasn’t afraid to die and agreed that much remained undone.
He showed me his office filled with papers, talked about requests for his archives, recalled his written yet unpublished work, his thoughts for more to write. Talked about his son’s wedding to come, looked forward to a granddaughter’s visit that night, his garden needed tending, he could get back in shape easily if he could only breathe easier … it wasn’t asthma after all you see … but the need for surgery (or two).
He wasn’t afraid to die and there was still plenty to do beforehand. His life still mattered – that’s why.”
“Life’s been hard for a while now, pandemic, aging, and other duress. Her husband no longer cares for her and her adult son cannot handle the stress.
Too tough, too messy, too hard, too old; no one wants her help or care. Husband and son want her out ‘right now!’ They both want her out of their hair.
And so, she cries, she worries, she frowns, and then she gives them what they want. She finds another place to live, her own cross-town apartment.
This wasn’t how she hoped life would go – this double-threat dose of strife, but she practices smiling inside and out. She continues on with her life.
Maybe things will change in time, but right now, she needs to breathe. She dons her smiling mask until her smile is something to bequeath to someone, anyone, if not the ones she originally intended her love for all life must continue on until sunshine returns above … until someone returns her love.”
“In the early morning hours, sometimes around the dust, even at noontime, if we dedicate the time, do we notice the softer sounds, ones so easily missed when we’re otherwise busy or on the run?
It’s during these times, we may hear our heartbeat or notice vibrations in our ears or feel the tingling in our hands and feet and recognize how much is going on.
This is it! This is real!
Noticing our breath, feeling our sitz bones, the position of our neck, acknowledging the gravity that allows us to be here, recognizing the Earth from which we were born ….. our true home is here, after all is said and done.”
“Let me die in autumn when green leaves turn to gold…when red, orange, and yellow combine and then explode…let life pass in glory, a story to be told, let me die in autumn before I grow too old
Worshipper of summer and winter is abhorred, a woman of extremes, not one to be ignored…true, she drives me crazy but never am I bored…taught me what is holy and who should be adored
And so, on second thought…
Let me die in springtime when dead limbs bud anew…tulips break the surface and promises come true…when love, like sap, will flow and every bird will coo…let me die in springtime and only die with you.”