The mother of a friend died yesterday at age 88. She’d been having heart trouble, but was overall doing well for her age. She felt poorly Sunday. Yesterday morning, she just slipped away while her husband of 58 years was in the kitchen eating his breakfast. It’s very sad for her family, but they have a sense that it was good for her to go quickly.
Michael and I talked about it over breakfast. I commented that I think that’s the way I want to go–healthy and involved and active and traveling until I’m 88, then slip away quietly with no fuss (or hospital bill) when my heart is worn out.
Michael disagreed. “I want to have notice, so I can say goodbye,” he explained.
I’ve always thought that was the hidden blessing of cancer. Families know death is coming and can spend quality goodbye time together, making peace and coming to appreciation and generally preparing to part with each other. But what I saw for myself on this sunny spring morning over coffee on the deck, amidst blooming azaleas and busy songbirds, is that I want to live into my relationships so completely that if I were to disappear tomorrow we’d all know we’d lived it up together, as thoroughly as possible.
I don’t know if when my time comes I’ll be any less likely to want quality goodbye time. But the thought landed me in the Present, calling me to life here and now, actively related to the ones I share it with…right up until it’s over.
Whew. Let’s live it up!
Thanks for this lovely reminder of the importance of communing deeply with our loved ones every chance we get. If we would all live everyday as if there were no tomorrow, and as if everyday was an important investment in our future, we’d all be more whole and more well.
thank you for sharing this Kathleen. You and Michael both argue good points and I don’t know where I land…but one way or the other, you’re both talking about “being present” in your experiences. That’s a concept that often eludes us through life but ironically makes its final and most significant appearance as we near the end.