"That'll go on your permanent record ..."
My cousin is facing a horrible loss: his partner of many years is dying of colon cancer. If he survives until December, which is questionable, he'll be 42. profkampf and poohbearjim have been together longer than one of my children has been alive, and their union outlasted my first marriage (and nearly my second).
Ray and Jim's circumstances, and the grace and dignity with which they're handling them, have made me reflect on how I would react if I found myself facing the end of my days. I have a fair amount of curiosity about what happens next, and to that extent, the idea of death doesn't frighten me, so long as any associated pain can be managed. I am also (mostly) at peace with the choices I've made. Those choices have guided me down the path I walk, and I believe that each of them was meant to teach me something. So long as I can recognize the lesson, the experiences - positive or negative - have had their intended impact. Those very few times where the lesson hasn't yet crystallized are the ones I continue to work through so that I can definitively say I have no regrets.
No, my overwhelming concern about death is the question of when my time comes, will I have done enough?
Will I have given my boys all they need to be independent, tolerant and compassionate men?
Will I have let my husband know that our relationship was the guiding star I followed, even when we weren't living as a married couple?
Will I have shown my friends, either by example or otherwise, how important they've been in my life, and how much they've added to it?
Will I have let my family know that, despite our myriad differences, I'm glad the universe chose to place me with them?
If I learn that I have some period of time left in which to put my affairs in order, those are the things I expect to attend to. Not going skydiving; not traveling to the lands I've missed; not indulging in various forms of debauchery just to be able to say that I did.
When I was younger, those were the types of things I thought I would want on my "permanent record" - experiences. Now, I realize that my permanent record is actually the way I'll be remembered in the minds of those people who were a part of my life.
What will your permanent record say?
Ray and Jim's circumstances, and the grace and dignity with which they're handling them, have made me reflect on how I would react if I found myself facing the end of my days. I have a fair amount of curiosity about what happens next, and to that extent, the idea of death doesn't frighten me, so long as any associated pain can be managed. I am also (mostly) at peace with the choices I've made. Those choices have guided me down the path I walk, and I believe that each of them was meant to teach me something. So long as I can recognize the lesson, the experiences - positive or negative - have had their intended impact. Those very few times where the lesson hasn't yet crystallized are the ones I continue to work through so that I can definitively say I have no regrets.
No, my overwhelming concern about death is the question of when my time comes, will I have done enough?
Will I have given my boys all they need to be independent, tolerant and compassionate men?
Will I have let my husband know that our relationship was the guiding star I followed, even when we weren't living as a married couple?
Will I have shown my friends, either by example or otherwise, how important they've been in my life, and how much they've added to it?
Will I have let my family know that, despite our myriad differences, I'm glad the universe chose to place me with them?
If I learn that I have some period of time left in which to put my affairs in order, those are the things I expect to attend to. Not going skydiving; not traveling to the lands I've missed; not indulging in various forms of debauchery just to be able to say that I did.
When I was younger, those were the types of things I thought I would want on my "permanent record" - experiences. Now, I realize that my permanent record is actually the way I'll be remembered in the minds of those people who were a part of my life.
What will your permanent record say?