Friday, July 25, 2014

Mortality

I was once told that I don't understand what it's like to get older and know that your time on this planet is getting shorter and shorter. They told me about how they sometimes saw the future stretching out before them and how empty it seemed. And, that I couldn't understand that.

I think they were right. I don't, and probably never will, understand that. Not because I don't look toward the future and see myself living alone (which doesn't bother me as much as it "should"), but because I can't afford to look so far ahead when I'm struggling with the mortality of the moment. I know, all too clearly, that I might not make it to my "old age". I know that every single moment I spend with my children is something that I must cherish right now and not store up for someday memories. I know that each moment of my life is a gift that should be treasured (even the scary moments) and that I need to let go of them as soon as they happen so that I'm open to the next moment.

I wonder if my mom ever reached this point. If she ever looked at her medical reports and decided that it was time to stop waiting for the "right time" to do something and just get started. I think that she did. After all, she went to school to become a Physician's Assistant even knowing that there was a possibility that she might not finish the course. She did complete it with excellent grades and went on to get a job for nearly two years before her final surgery. Even that last decision... she knew that she would not likely make it through, but she chose the procedure anyway and died on the table. I honestly believe that she had very few, if any, regrets. I'm not sure I can say the same about myself at this moment.

I needed a nap today. I had been doing well, but I barely made it home before I had to lay down. At least I don't need them daily anymore. I hold the hope that things will keep getting better and that my strength will return. And maybe the future will be bright after all. Even so...

The house is quiet and dark and I sit here wondering if there is enough time. Will my wee little house be built? Will there be goats & rabbits to gather fiber from? Will there be grandchildren (although, I know this will happen whether I'm here or not... but will I meet them?) Will I see the Tor? Should I dream that big? Or should I find smaller dreams?

In this darkness, I'm just not sure. I will think more about it as the sun begins to rise. For now, I'll join the night on the front step and wait for the first bird to sing out.

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