Point #3: Considering Mortality
Living gratefully today, I am soothed by early morning quiet and motivated by ongoing transformation.
Point of Clarity #3: "Having to consider my own mortality helps me cherish my life."
This point of clarity has done some significant evolving lately.
I have gotten my closest look yet at mortality in the last couple of years. Mom going into a nursing home. Her frailty and dementia advancing. My sister Leonice being diagnosed with cancer. My dear friend Sheila's daughter dying by suicide. Mary Jo getting a terminal diagnosis.
It stands to reason that as we age we face our mortality, and the mortality of others, in new ways. When my dad died, I was 33. My life had just opened up in significant ways, Newly married, a stepmom, new job, new home. I grieved his sudden death then. I continue to grieve and miss him twenty years later, but not in gut-grabbing ways.
My own cancer diagnosis was a gut-grabber, demolishing my youthful sense of security at age 42. Watching Mary Jo decline. Saying our final goodbyes. Seeing her human form in a casket. Gut-grabbers.
Having numerous conversations with my friend Sheila after Carli's death by suicide at 14. Feeling for my friend and her deep pain. Gut-grabbers.
These gut-grabbers have done some demolishing, but they have also allowed for new building, new foundations, new hope.
Facing mortality has not diminished my desire to live gratefully, to continue learning and growing in my recovery from alcoholism, to face fears and regrets, to keep writing and running. It hasn't diminished my hope that I can know more love, compassion, and patience.
If anything, facing mortality has heightened my desire for all of these things, and for the energy to do the necessary work. The work of human being.
There is more to cherish in my life today than ever. Blessings all.
Point of Clarity #3: "Having to consider my own mortality helps me cherish my life."
This point of clarity has done some significant evolving lately.
I have gotten my closest look yet at mortality in the last couple of years. Mom going into a nursing home. Her frailty and dementia advancing. My sister Leonice being diagnosed with cancer. My dear friend Sheila's daughter dying by suicide. Mary Jo getting a terminal diagnosis.
It stands to reason that as we age we face our mortality, and the mortality of others, in new ways. When my dad died, I was 33. My life had just opened up in significant ways, Newly married, a stepmom, new job, new home. I grieved his sudden death then. I continue to grieve and miss him twenty years later, but not in gut-grabbing ways.
My own cancer diagnosis was a gut-grabber, demolishing my youthful sense of security at age 42. Watching Mary Jo decline. Saying our final goodbyes. Seeing her human form in a casket. Gut-grabbers.
Having numerous conversations with my friend Sheila after Carli's death by suicide at 14. Feeling for my friend and her deep pain. Gut-grabbers.
These gut-grabbers have done some demolishing, but they have also allowed for new building, new foundations, new hope.
Facing mortality has not diminished my desire to live gratefully, to continue learning and growing in my recovery from alcoholism, to face fears and regrets, to keep writing and running. It hasn't diminished my hope that I can know more love, compassion, and patience.
If anything, facing mortality has heightened my desire for all of these things, and for the energy to do the necessary work. The work of human being.
There is more to cherish in my life today than ever. Blessings all.
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