On the Day I Die

Reblogged from:
http://johnpavlovitz.com/2016/02/29/on-the-day-i-die/

 
On the die I day a lot will happen.
The world will be busy.
On the day I die, all the important appointments I made will be left unattended.
The many plans I had yet to complete will remain forever undone.
The calendar that ruled so many of my days will now be irrelevant to me.
All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or to discard.
The words of my critics which so burdened me will cease to sting or capture anymore. They will be unable to touch me.
The arguments I believed I’d won here will not serve me or bring me any satisfaction or solace.   
All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls will go unanswered. Their great urgency will be quieted.
My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past, where they should have always been anyway.
Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over; about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.
My carefully crafted image, the one I worked so hard to shape for others here, will be left to them to complete anyway.
The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain will be of little concern for me anymore.
All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night will be rendered powerless.
The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before while I lived.
These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die.

Yet for as much as will happen on that day, one more thing that will happen.
On the day I die, the few people who really know and truly love me will grieve deeply.
They will feel a void.
They will feel cheated.
They will not feel ready.
They will feel as though a part of them has died as well.
And on that day, more than anything in the world they will want more time with me.
I know this from those I love and grieve over.
And so knowing this, while I am still alive I’ll try to remember that my time with them is finite and fleeting and so very precious—and I’ll do my best not to waste a second of it.
I’ll try not to squander a priceless moment worrying about all the other things that will happen on the day I die, because many of those things are either not my concern or beyond my control.
Friends, those other things have an insidious way of keeping you from living even as you live; vying for your attention, competing for your affections.
They rob you of the joy of this unrepeatable, uncontainable, ever-evaporating Now with those who love you and want only to share it with you.
Don’t miss the chance to dance with them while you can.

It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.
Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you believe matters, because on the day you die, much of it simply won’t.
Yes, you and I will die one day.
But before that day comes: let us live.

Amazing Grace

Soon it will be spring, some of the wildflowers are already starting to bloom and the weather is beginning to warm.  The Groundhog predicted an early spring today. The Earth has almost made a full trip around the sun since the day Mom died.

After at least 8 years of fighting the devastating effects of Alzheimer's Disease, Mom died peacefully in her sleep exactly 24 years to the day after Dad died.  This disease is called "the long goodbye" but that is a lie.  There is no goodbye.  There is only pain and heartache, and a shell of a person you used to know.  You lose a little of yourself every day as you walk the path of Alzheimer's with your loved one.  I feel cheated.
I lost Mom years before I even knew it. 

I had grown frustrated with her inability to comprehend and follow directions without realizing why she couldn't accomplish these tasks.  She would get frustrated with me for the same things - while, the time between these "discussions" could be months, it was always the same.  I have guilt for not recognizing the signs before I did.  But she was a proud woman and hid her problems well, she was able to probe for the information she needed to fill in the gaps so it didn't appear she had lost a memory.  She was clever.  Even after the disease became so pronounced she could no longer hide the symptoms, she was seeking ways to cover the gaps, and would become angry when she couldn't.  I learned how to talk to her in ways that would not give her the answers she was seeking and expose her deficits.  As heartbreaking as this was, it was necessary to get a clear picture of what was happening to her.

I retreated into a clinical approach in dealing with her illness, it was something happening to her - it was not her.

I don't remember the last time she told me directly that she loved me.  I know she recognized my name within a month of her death, spontaneously, as she saw it painted on a panel van as we were driving down the highway and pointed to it with a sparkle in her eye and a smile on her face.  It was the only way she had of communicating that she knew me, and my name; even though she couldn't speak it. That was our last really good day. There were surprisingly few during Mom's illness.  Although I have been in the company of other Alzheimer's patients who seem to be able to engage more with the world, if only for the moment.

A few days before she died, we believe she suffered a mild stroke.  She lost all ability to speak, and feed herself.  Her mobility was further impaired.  My son & I visited her and she seemed to be able to acknowledge our conversation by nodding her head.  She ate a good meal.  And died peacefully in her sleep early the next morning... as previously noted on the exact day my Father had died 24 years before.

It was as if in that moment, he was allowed to reach out to her, take her hand, and they would be together again, made whole - with my Sister - in Heaven.

Click to enlarge

The Bluebonnets were at the peak of their bloom, and wildflowers covered the highways.  Heavy rains had ended an extended and severe drought and the farmers & ranchers had renewed hope.

As for me, I was relieved.  It was over. I felt happy for her.  My prayers for some time had been that God would take her peacefully so that she could be made whole again in Heaven.  No longer trapped by the body that had betrayed her.  Her struggle was real, she fought so very hard against her disease, she hated it.  In her confusion and fear, she lashed out at me, but I understand why - there was no one else to hear her cries for help.  There would be no help.  No  understanding.  No comfort. No goodbyes.  It is the most horrible of deaths.  Lost and trapped inside yourself.  And your loved one(s) locked out, suffering, too.

Yes, I am thankful my prayers were answered.  I miss the Mom I used to know.  But she is in me, and around me.  Hopefully I can share the best parts of her with my son.  And one day I too, will fly away to heaven come some sweet blue bonnet spring.