The Countdown

Wow, it's getting close!  I post a blog entry every Wednesday (or sometimes Tuesday night).  Counting today there are only six more entries to make.  Truth be told, sometimes I have more than one thought per week.  Sometimes I have less.  So as the thoughts occur to me I draft a post.  I already have five more blog posts drafted.

Maybe I'm done thinking about the subject.  Well, at least the blog posts...  As I considered that penultimate sentence I realized I still need to think about preparations:  write those letters, update the will.  I've just spent 30 minutes this morning making appointments for check-ups and such now that summer is upon us and I will have time off.  But I didn't even begin to schedule an appointment for a will update.

No time this morning...I'm off to enjoy a my youngest's Fifth Grade graduation ceremony!

Who Will Stand Up For Me

Some people I know recently organized a fun run for a mutual friend who is (still) battling with cancer.   I am not a runner but I thought I might go and help out in some way.  Then I realized the run was in the morning and my son had a tennis tournament that afternoon.  Not impossible but logistically challenging.  But I still really wanted to help.  I hope that one day there is someone who cares enough about me to organize a fun run and when they do I hope that there will be enough volunteers to help.  It's the Paying It Forward concept that I have posted about previously.  But it also reminds me of a poem in the book "I Am Malala" which I recently re-read:

They came for the Communists, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a Communist;

They came for the Socialists, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a Socialist;

They came for the labor leaders, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a labor leader;

They came for the Jews, and I didn't object - For I wasn't a Jew;

Then they came for me - And there was no one left to object.

Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor, 1892-1984

Writing the Final Last Words

Somewhere in the nagging back of my mind is the desire to write a letter, to leave a last bit of advice or reassurance to my children.  I've mentioned it before - but have yet to even begin the process.  I think it only takes a bit of imagination to think how hard such an undertaking would be.

For the last few months I've been listening to the audio books of my favorite "Outlander" series by Diana Gabaldon.  "Voyager" Ch. 42 sums it all up very well.  Let me set the scene:  a woman who accidentally time traveled in ~1945 back to ~1743 accidentally fell in love with Jaime.  Because Claire knew modern-day history which, in 1743, is the future, she knew a war was coming.  She was pregnant by Jaime so he sent her back to modern-day to keep the baby safe since they assume he'll die in the war.  Twenty years later she discovers he didn't die.  The baby is grown so she goes back to the past to be with her true love.  But she writes a letter for her daughter before she leaves.  Here are some of the ideas Claire voices in the novel regarding such a letter:

• I expect she'll ignore it all, and have a wonderful life - but at least she'll know I thought about her.
• If she doesn't need it, it will do no harm, and if she does, it will be there.
• She recorded what she knew of the family medical history
• ...how could I tell her just how much I loved her? 
• She shared a lot of treasured memories of her daughter growing up
• She gave a bit of advice about men, such as don't try to change them because you can't and don't let them try to change you because they can't either

Maybe I'll use this as a pattern when I finally do write those letters.  Sure, the books are fiction, but at least it's a launching point that makes the task seem a little less overwhelming.

A Quote to Contemplate

Theodore Roosevelt said, "Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die."
Ouch!  Usually I rationalize my fear by saying I'm not afraid for myself, I just don't want to leave my kids.  But honestly, I am a little afraid.  Not of the after-life.  I'm clear on that.  But I'm afraid of getting from the point of life to the point of death.  I'm afraid that it might be long and drawn out and painful.