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My Impending Demise

We think we have time. The question is, how much? That leads to other questions. Will I be satisfied with how I lived my life? What am I compelled to complete? What legacy will I leave? The odds are good that I’ll live to my mid-80s or 90s. The odds are equally as good I won’t. As the deaths of this generation occur with increasing regularity, including my three sisters, my impending demise moves to the forefront of my imagination.

My responses:

1. Will I be satisfied with how I lived my life? For the most part. I’ve participated in the creation of two children, two grandchildren, and three successful businesses. I’ve contributed my energy to organizations and my community. I’ve published two books and penned a memoir. I’ve cleaned up the majority of my inner litter. Amenable to reveal myself, I’m willing to speak about things some find too intimidating. Luckily, I have friends and family who care about me. I would die bereft if I thought no one cared, that there was no intimacy, no love in my life. I know what that feels like; it’s painful. My mother died like that. The choices she made throughout her life determined the way she died, her personal history a vast early warning system.
2. What would I like to do before I die? Other than returning old family pictures and completing my genealogy work, I have little on my to-do list. I’d write more stories and dance more. I don’t have a lot of loose ends, unrealized hopes, or relationships that need cleaning up.
3. What legacy will I leave? What I’ve learned. I wrote it down for those interested. Unless I have a giant garage sale, I’ll abandon the possessions I’ve loved and enjoyed. I’ve painstakingly chronicled our family heritage, useful for those down the road delving into our history.

Am I afraid to die? I’ve no idea. It’s an “in the moment” process, mysterious and profound. I have little guilt gripping me, I’m no longer weighted by the angst I’ve carried, and I’m not holding onto unspoken words. Well, there are a few, but it’s okay to leave some things unsaid. Besides, it’s my stuff, not theirs.

I don’t believe that death is “it.” I’m curious if those who passed will be there to greet me. I wonder if my consciousness can connect to the earthly plane. I’ve felt others connect with me after their demise, so why won’t my energy be able to do that? Will I have work to do on the other side? Is there another side? What if this is the other side? Perhaps I’ll go to Arcturus and search for my cousin Aura Chatfield. That’s where she came from, and where she hoped to return. Will I reincarnate? Does karma play into it? Will I get another chance, a do-over? Will I return with more work to do around my mother? OMG, what if we return together? I mean really, enough is enough. Give me someone else to dance with next time.

As I age, I see how fleeting my life has been. The older I get, the faster it goes. In five years, I’ll be 80. It will likely be harder to roll out of bed in the morning, but I like this pace of slowing down, of living my ordinary life. Time is an illusion, but it gives a sense of living. So in this moment, I have time.

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