Thoughts on Mortality

I have had a pretty contemplative pair of weeks. I know what you’re thinking: “Oh, no, how long will THIS entry be?” Sorry…hehehehe…

I can honestly say I’m not afraid of dying. The thought that always comes to mind is, “What if I miss something?” I’m a little worried that there will be pain or horrible illness before I get to the finish line, but the thing I really fear is watching someone I love go through pain or horrible illness, while I watch helplessly as they die. And then being left behind.

I’m not one to spend much time thinking about death, but a handful of things happened recently that really had me thinking about it much more than I’d like. First, I read that the mother of my childhood best friend (grades 2, 3, and 4) had passed away. I hadn’t seen my friend’s mom in almost 40 years, but I can still remember her and my impressions of her when I was young. It was almost like learning the friend had died. It seemed too mortal.

A few months back I learned that a high school friend had lost a very long battle with breast cancer. I had had no idea she was sick, but I do very much remember her life, at least the part which I was privileged to observe. A more alive and vibrant person I cannot imagine. I really wished that I could have been her back when we were young, and I was afraid of my own shadow most of the time. Just the other day I was looking at a group dedicated to her on Facebook, and while looking through photos, I saw her casket at her burial, and it brought to mind the shock and concern I felt when I first learned she had died.

The other day my youngest daughter’s best friend lost a great-aunt to cancer and emphysema. What I was hearing about her final days brought to mind the dear 50-year-old lady in our ward who died of lung cancer last year, leaving three beautiful daughters to make their way through life without her.

I went to lunch with some ladies from church (all of whom are my mom’s age or older), and I remarked to one of them that she looks so vibrant and robust. That was the best word I could think of, but it really fit. I had had no idea she had been sick until she replied, “Well, not having to take chemotherapy helps.”

And then the other evening a friend of mine IMed me and told me he had just learned that a friend had passed away suddenly from heart complications due to pneumonia. He said she had been at a depo and hadn’t felt well, so she went to the hospital after work. The bad news is that all of that really did happen. The good news for my friend and all those who love her is that it was a case of mistaken identity, and she was not the victim. I was very glad to hear that. She’s only in her 50s and I’m sure has a tremendous amount of living left to do. But I spent the nearly 24 hours before the misunderstanding was cleared thinking about what the world would be like if my friend were gone.

So, yeah, for some strange reason, my mind has been dwelling on death lately. I remember when my dad died. In the middle of the most painful experience of my life, I had a moment of absolute clarity: I didn’t just *believe in* the resurrection, I *know* it is real and that this is just a temporary, annoying separation. So my testimony remains strong, though I wonder…what is it really like? I turn 49 next month, and I am all too aware that 49 seems to be most common age to die, at least for people I know. And I don’t think ANY of those people thought they would die at 49.

So let’s think about living instead. I am quite certain this is the hardest thing I have ever experienced. I have always told the kids: “Life’s not fair. And then you die.” Sounds pessimistic, I know, but it’s true. How many situations in real life (not the 30-minute sitcom or the made-for-TV movie) turn out with all’s well that ends well? Instead, we face trial after trial, struggle after struggle, trying to get from one end of life to the other.

Here’s a question: Do we want to suffer these awful experiences and gain nothing from them? If we have to go through them anyway, why not make sure we grow a little or become more tolerant and truly look at others with Eternal-colored glasses? For the girl who becomes pregnant as a teen, after going through that life-changing, harrowing trial, will she learn compassion for others and hang back from judging others for their mistakes? The drug addict who makes it to the other side of the addiction to recovery very often sees others where he was and reaches a hand to help.

It’s expected of us that we mourn with those who mourn, comfort those in need of comfort, and lift the hands that hang down. I love that phrase. It is so visual. To quote the words of one of my favorite songs, “If we are the body, why aren’t His arms reaching?” My kids struggle with going to church, not for the lack of testimony but for the lack of interest or even kindness shown to them by their peers. People hurt. We all hurt. And yet we’re so afraid to reach to one another because we fear no one really can understand how we feel.

And that brings up my dirty little secret that I really know isn’t mine alone: Whenever I hear of someone passing away, aside from the sadness and grief, one of my first thoughts is “They don’t have to worry about anything anymore. They are free from the pain and suffering of mortal life.” And I’m a teeny bit jealous. Not enough to DO anything about that, of course, other than to keep trying to fix my life while I’m still in the middle of it.

I never thought I'd say this, but I kinda like Ohio. Yeah, I know :D Not believing I'd get the chance to have a real vacation this year, I happily tagged along with Darryl for his business trip to a suburb of Columbus. It's only 400 miles away, so we drove. The drive was great...beautiful country. In fact, as we were joking about how "ugly" it was, I mentioned that no matter which direction we travel from our home, the drive is just gorgeous.

We drove northwest from Fredericksburg through Warrenton and Winchester, along the Skyline Drive area of Shenandoah, then into a forest in West Virginia. Yeah, it just never got ugly, the whole time. Now, mind you, I totally miss the Pacific Ocean...and Yosemite, but, really, much of the HUGE state of California really can't compare to the piece of the East in which we now live. Okay, I still miss Home, but I've discovered that it's definitely possible to love where you live and still not be disrespectful to where your genetic background calls home.

We are staying in a little dive of a hotel in Lancaster, Ohio, an adorable little community about 30 miles southeast of Columbus. After Darryl finishes his meetings today, we are probably going to head to Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, so that he can show me where he lived when he was in junior high. I've heard lots of stories, so I'm looking forward to seeing it.

I spent all day yesterday finishing up the transcripts I had, but today I'm simply going to do...nothing. I may take a drive, just to see what's out there because I CAN. Last night we went to see a movie. So maybe I'm not doing all the traditional vacation things, but the opportunity to NOT be a mom, to NOT be a laundress, to NOT be a court reporter or transcriptionist, to NOT be a housekeeper: Just what I needed!

Lindsay just came home from two weeks of vacation (one week in Florida and another in Washington with family), and Lauren comes home on Thursday after a week and a half in Washington. It's been a fun summer for them, especially Lauren, who needs the "rest" time to get ready for school, I would imagine. It's been a little more quiet at home for the other kids and for me.

This year has been such a year of growth for me. I've had the opportunity to examine my motivations and my real desires, and most of the time I've liked what I've found. There's been much room for improvement, but I like the road I'm on. Frankly, it would seem such a waste to go through the heartache I've suffered without having a positive outcome on the other side. Not that I'm to the other side yet, but I hope that's what I can see off in the distance....not just a mirage.

I am so grateful for my loved ones. I have been blessed to have experiences and opportunities that have opened my eyes. I appreciate things about my kids that I might not have noticed back in the day. Sunday markes 29 years since I first got married, and I am absolutely not the same person I was back on that day in 1981. In fact, if I could travel in time, I would love to go have a long talk with that young girl. She was scared and shy and way too compliant. But if I hadn't been THAT girl, who would I be today? Seriously, how many of us would want to give up our trials if it meant giving up the person we've become as we've grown up?

On a more temporal note, I went to Wal*Mart yesterday because I'd forgotten to pack enough shirts to wear while we're away. Of course, I packed for Darryl too, and HE had everything he needed :D I found a couple of T-shirts and a pair of shorts to wear. The really exciting part is that the shirts AND the shorts are all size 10 - a size I haven't been able to wear in several years. The shorts are a bit tight right around the waist, but not anything I would have noticed but for the fact that my size 12s have been way to BIG for some time now.

I am so glad that we've been making changes in our lifestyle, and I hope it continues because we both feel so great. Darryl has been losing too, and he's pulling clothes from the back of the closet that he'd given up hope of wearing. He really looks good.

I hear the heat and humidity are coming back to Ohio today, though it's been a fairly humidity-free summer for the locals. I guess I kind of feel bad, because we've obviously brought it with us from Virginia! Humidity: The ONE thing I don't miss when I leave home.