Early autumn in Vermont
Most of us take life for granted. We assume that when we get in our car, we will make it to our destination. We think that when we reach New Year’s Eve and welcome in the New Year, we will do so, this year and next. No matter how old you are, that may not be the case. Songs have been written about being granted “just one more day … Give me just one more day.” Now, here is the question: If you knew that you had just one more day to live, what would you do?
Would you speak in softer, more pleasant tones? Would you be more cheerful? Would you go out of your way to help someone, even if you didn’t have to do so? Would you eat a banana split, or just maraschino cherries because you happen to like them? Would you visit an animal shelter and offer to walk a dog? Would you read that book you’ve always wanted to find the time to peruse? Would you pray? Would you call friends?
We don’t usually want to make the time to think about death, our own, or anyone close to us. Yet, death comes to visit, at the most unusual times. It keeps its own schedule. I was not very old when I was robbed of someone whom I loved dearly … and I did not have the chance to say good-bye. I did not even have the opportunity to come across the country to be with family at the wake and funeral. So, essentially, I was robbed twice.
Even with a lingering illness, and with folks in watchful waiting, the exact moment of death cannot be predicted. Any realist, who reads the newspaper, is aware that humans are more fragile than what our egos would have each of us believe.
Life is precious. What you choose to do with your time, matters. There are not enough moments in one’s life, and at the end, or when we are in crisis, we always hope to get through the ordeal, and we mostly hope to survive “just one more day.”
Those who give advice are always directing others to have a “will” drawn up, to arrange trusts, and to bequeath money to institutions. They tell people to pre-pay funerals and monuments and caskets. They suggest drawing up papers for advance directives. How many of us want to spend our time making final arrangements while we are still here? We are still eating, moving, talking, breathing … Hardly anyone wants to think beyond what will be fixed for dinner, or when our child’s next soccer game, or dramatic play is scheduled.
Yet, it matters not whether we want to think about the end or not. Poets, writers, and artists seem to be more willing to consider “death” more often than the rest of the world’s people. Look at Shakespeare’s tragedies, like “Macbeth.” Read Emily Dickinson’s poem that begins with, “Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me, the carriage held but just ourselves, and Immortality.” Recollect recent quilts and fabrics made to celebrate “El Día de Los Muertos,” or “Day of the Dead” celebrations. Yes, in Mexico, the people actually celebrate the lives of those who have gone before by bringing food to the cemetery, etc.
The idea of death generates various thoughts that are dependent upon one’s faith, and belief in the hereafter, if there is such a “thing,” and whether or not we feel the person is now “in a better place.” It is much more difficult when we think that we may be the person who is being mourned, or at least remembered.
The only certain truth I know about death is that when it happens, it is a permanent state.
When images of soldiers are shown on television, engaged in a gun fight, someone is bound to die. Unlike children playing war games, the deceased will never stand up and “play” again. How many of those fighting men had hoped for “just one more day”? Death is inconceivable. None of us can really wrap our minds around it.
Today, please, hug your loved ones, hold them close in heart and in spirit. Write your spouse, your sweetheart, or your child, a note. Make a phone call. Send a gift. There will come a day when you shall not be able to do any of those actions.
In the meantime, make the most of the mean people you encounter (I’ve met my share of them), the self-serving ones, and the ones who have no faith, so perhaps they think that it doesn’t matter how they act toward others. The best any of us can hope for is “just one more day.”
Peace and Joy to you. Be well.
Patricia Cummings
a jewelry holder
