Most of the time I'm focused on birth and breastfeeding - the giving and sustaining of life. Birth and breastfeeding are my passions and the work that I do. But sometimes the Shadow Sister steps in. Her name is Death. I've been wanting to write about death for a while. It's also something that my mind sometimes focuses on. Probably because it's no stranger to me.
My husband and I spent ten years together before we got married. Sometimes people think that's strange. It just, well...
happened. In our first years together we were young and finishing college. Post-college family members started dying all around us. First, my dad. Then, the next year my husband's mom. Then two years later his dad. My great aunt. Another great aunt. My grandfather. By the time my husband's uncle died - I started laughing uncontrollably - which I know sounds weird, but I just couldn't believe it. This was all during a span of around 5 years.
The loss of three of our four parents was pretty traumatic. I think for a long time we just got through. I feel like I've incorporated my father's death into my life pretty well now. I don't know if my husband has completely resolved his feelings over his parents' deaths - he was an only child and losing both of them was pretty devastating; they both died of cancer (different types) and the specter of cancer somehow constantly seems to rear its ugly head either consciously or unconsciously.
It came up again recently with the death of my aunt in January. I learned in December that my aunt's cancer was terminal (she had been fighting it for a couple of years) and that she had anywhere from several months to several weeks to live. On January 26th I received the call from my mom that Mary Jo only had a few hours to live - and she did pass on to the next world that evening surrounded by her family, beautiful flowers and much love.That seems like a good way to die - surrounded by love.
When death arrives in my life now, it makes me contemplate what makes life one that is well-lived. I think that in my twenties I didn't contemplate it that much - I just survived. Although, maybe I contemplated that question and just came up with different answers. I am sure that is part of it, because once I became a mother death took on a whole new perspective. The stakes were much, much higher once I had my daughters.
For starters, my husband and I suddenly were responsible for and in charge of maintaining the lives of these two precious bundles - that's pretty damn scary. Who put us in charge?! Were we really equipped for this job? For another, I became highly aware of the vulnerability of both my daughters and myself should anything happen to my husband - the mere thought of which can send me right into shallow chest breathing. And finally, the possibility of my own untimely demise became hauntingly clear as potential for ruining the lives of my daughters and my husband. Once I had kids, driving alone in the car by myself became the impetus for special prayers and invocations for protection. I don't know if all mothers have these thoughts and fears - maybe it's worse for those of us who have experienced death so that its reality can no longer be denied.
That's not to say that I go around worrying about death all the time. I really don't have that much time to be overly anxious and self-indulgent. It wouldn't be that healthy for me anyways. But I can't deny that it's there. The Shadow is always there - sometimes big, sometimes small. But maybe sometimes that is a good thing. To be aware. To be mindful of the preciousness of life. To put certain aspects of our life into perspective.
As I work in the kitchen creating yet another meal for my family or wash dishes - can I really be in that moment and savor the
mundaneness of that moment? I bet my aunt would love to have another day to make a meal for her family, to scold her daughter for leaving dishes in the sink rather than putting them in the dishwasher, to pick up clothing from the floor that contains the smell and energy of her beloved family.
It's easy to get busy or overwhelmed and forget about the preciousness of our lives. It's easy to feel irritated by our family members' human imperfections (which somehow become fodder for cherished memories once they are gone). It's easy to feel overwhelmed and to get on the hamster-wheel of constantly running in a circle that may feel unsatisfying to us. We are busy and doing stuff, going round and round, but does it have meaning?
I think that our culture puts a lot of emphasis on achievement and proving our worth in material ways - a cool career, lots of money in the bank, a summer house, etc. A lot of time the outward signs of success are not really those that bring happiness. Sometimes, going after those achievements and accolades may actually take us farther from those things that have the most importance - our relationships and living a life with purpose.
That's not to say that we shouldn't have ambition or accumulate material wealth - those things in themselves are not bad. I just think relationships and a sense of purpose in one's life has to come first. When I die, I will be left with how I've affected other's lives, how I have built my relationships with my daughters, my husband, my family, my friends - the quality of these relationships I take with my soul. Have I lived a life with purpose? Has my life made a difference? Do I feel at peace with the decisions and actions I have taken in my life?
Perhaps we can take some hints from people who have been there. One book I love is
Tuesdays with Morrie. My copy is in storage (long story of why all my books are currently in the garage), so I can't offer any great quotes here, but this is a book that I found very powerful and I recommend reading it. My husband shared with me this link,
Regrets of the Dying, by a nurse that worked in palliative care. I really love the points this author shares with us - I think that by truly contemplating our mortality and the mortality of our loved ones it can bring us more in focus about what is truly important to us.
So, that's been on my mind - am I living fully? Am I living a life without regret? What makes a life well-lived? I am pondering and asking these questions because how horrible it would be to reach my time of passing and realize that I had profound and heart-breaking regrets.
For me, I want to be fully present in my life - to be in my body, to be aware of living and breathing. I definitely need and want to add more physical activity to my life which sadly is lacking. Being physically active helps me feel better, stronger and more alive. I really miss dancing and hope to incorporate this more in my life - even if I am only gyrating to the sounds of Top 40 in my kitchen. And I would love to do yoga - there has got to be a way!
I feel a strong need to care for others and to make a difference in others' lives. Who knew? When I first contemplated volunteering to help moms with breastfeeding I almost held back - it sounded like a lot of responsibility and I never volunteered for anything. I was completely self-absorbed in my own deal. Women calling my house with questions, I thought - ugh! But you know what - I ended up
loving it! There really is truth that helping others and volunteering gives one great satisfaction. I also love that my work as a birth educator can have a profound influence for expecting parents and help them have a positive experience. Knowing that I can support and help others gives meaning to my life and enhances my other relationships. So, I will keep on with this part - and I am able to incorporate it in a way that I can still meet the needs of my family, which is also very important to me.
For me, in my life, I would deeply regret it if my relationships with my family members were somehow severed or damaged. Destroying relationships is easy - those threads that connect us are fragile; building relationships is hard - it takes awareness, effort and work. I think of my relationship with my husband and all that we have been through as a couple - wow! Sometimes I amazed that we made it through. There have been times when we have really treated each other badly simply due to a lack of awareness or knowledge at the time. We have really grown a lot. Our daughters have taught us a lot. Sometimes we make mistakes - if you make a mistake, you've got to own up to it and repair it. Maybe it's best to approach our relationships with openness, vulnerability and humility. And forgiveness. This is hard sometimes. Really hard. But to not make the effort, to not put yourself on the line may have the greatest cost in the end. I hope that I have to strength and awareness to continue building these relationships with my loved ones.
And since I am on the subject of vulnerability - I think the first and third points in "Regrets of the Dying" are some that I am working on now:
- I wish I'd had the courage to live life true to myself, not the life others expected of me
- I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings
Some of this started with the birth of my babies - because that was the beginning of transforming my life. Some of this is manifesting now in writing this blog. I am hoping that here I will be willing to be open, to share, to be honest, to be vulnerable with you. Will I play it safe? Or am I willing to fully express myself and take chances? This will be the challenge, the risk. Sharing my feelings is hard for me - oh my god. For many years I wasn't even aware of my feelings (this had to be part of impetus for pursuing the theatre, if even unconsciously, as an avenue for getting in touch with my even having feelings.) I am a pleaser by nature (that's why I am pretty good at the helping others part) but that needs to be balanced by self-expression and being true to myself. So, can I live a life without regret in this department? Only time will tell.
What about you? Do you feel you are living a life without regret? What do you think makes a life well-lived? Think about it. This moment that you are living right now, right here is precious and amazing. Breathe in deep, feel the air in your lungs, and give a grateful exhale. Then go hug someone you love. If you've only got yourself right now -- hug yourself...you are precious and amazing!
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Everyday we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle. - Thich Nhat Hanh
