I am dying.
Some days I wake up and think I “can’t.” I simply can’t die because there are meals to cook, laundry to fold and a child that needs to be potty trained. I have things written on my calendar. Bills to pay, promises made and holidays approaching.
I look at a date that I have something I am looking forward to doing and I suffer through today, because today isn’t going well.
I know the kids, a friend or my husband want to sit down and spend time together, but I have so much to do.
I forget I am dying.
I am harsher to the kids than I should be sometimes. I forget to tell my parents I love them. I get overwhelmed and moody. I hold a grudge with a family member. I find a voice mail or text from someone I care about and I get too wrapped up in a project to return it. I know someone who could use help and I think “tomorrow…”
Then I remember I am dying.
I notice the clock on the wall and realize that so much time has passed in this day and I didn’t live in it, I just counted down the minutes.
I see things different in those moments.
I look at the kids in church clothes and rather than think about the laundry, I jump in the puddle with them.
I listen to the kid with the sassy mouth and rather than march them to time out, I stop and hug them.
I look at the food I’ve put out to start preparing dinner, I pick up my phone and call my mom instead.
I turn away from the calendar of deadlines and “to-do” and call my friends for an impromptu get-together.
I take a breath and realize that it was given to me. It wasn’t promised. I acknowledge that this moment was designed for me to live, despite my death. When I am gone, this is what is shaping the memories of the ones I love about who I was. My last choice shows them what was really important to me. I want to take advantage of my choices while I still have them.
Sometimes I get so busy living that I forget to live. Sometimes I count down the minutes so often that I don’t recognize the time that I wasted.
Waiting to live and forgetting I am dying.
…and frankly…Knowing I am dying is how I want to live.
Categories: August Diary Entry