Life. The meaning of life. The gift of life. Life's lessons. Live life to the fullest. Life is too short. Life in the fast lane. It's a wonderful life. Enjoy your life. Live laugh love. The best years of my life. Living' loving' it's just a woman. Life's savings. Life's work. A life well lived. Don't waste your life. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Life without parole. I want my life back. Live out loud. Making a living. Happy wife, happy life. Life is an adventure. Life goes on. Get a life. It's my life.
Life. Yes, it is a miracle, a gift, a wonder. Life can be thrilling, boring, fulfilling, and disappointing. It can drag on, or pass quickly. While we are living it, at times we barely notice it. We cling to life and all its trappings fiercely. We spend so much time living our lives, watching other people's lives, and fitting more into our lives, we forget that life as we know it is not eternal. I know I have. Then, one day, it suddenly hits you--life does end, will end, for you and everyone else. And when that happens, everything else grinds to a halt.
For some, life ends unexpectedly, suddenly, tragically, and with no warning. For others, life begins to fade slowly, gradually, almost imperceptibly, until one day, life is no more. Regardless, we are not used to facing the inevitability of death. We don't talk about it, even though we worry about it, and try to forestall death. We use euphemisms like "pass away," "kick the bucket," "buy the farm," "go to our eternal home"--anything so we don't have to say someone DIED. We stage illnesses to avoid saying anything like "terminal" or "end of life." When someone is dying, or has died, the most talkative, understanding person becomes speechless, and it is all we can do to mumble our condolences, or nervously fidget and say "sorry" and then hurry off, back to our lives.
My dad is almost 94 years old. He is an amazing, exasperating, frustrating, and at times a self-centered man. He has lived an amazing life, and is still full of life. He has never really been sick, he still has all his marbles, and he is glad to give you a piece of his mind, even if you don't want it. Sometimes he makes me crazy, and sometimes he makes me laugh, but mostly he is a huge part of my life. My family's lives. Together we've experienced births, deaths, weddings, divorces, birthdays, graduations, and baptisms. We have traveled around the US, to Italy, England, and to Niagara falls. We spend at least two holidays a year with him, if not more, and I have been calling him every Sunday at 8:00 pm since I can remember. Hell, we have shared so many memories with Dad and Sheila, they have become an integral part of the fabric of our life. I thought he'd live forever. I mean, I know that is impossible, but life, though it prepares you for many things, does not prepare you for the end of it.
Thanksgiving, 2017, my parents were at our home in North Carolina, eating turkey dinner with all the trimmings, just another holiday memory for the photo albums and slide shows. Two months later, I am here with them, in their home, watching my dad die of lung disease.For the past four weeks, my world has been turned completely inside out and upside down, and my life before this is a distant, blurry other-world. He is still my dad, still the same pain in the ass at times, but still the best father I could ever ask for. I love him like I love breathing--I take it for granted most of the time, but there are those precious moments, like now, when nothing else really matters except him. Days are extraordinary in their routine sameness. We talk, eat, manage the mundane medical and hygiene tasks, and we are together. I don't take care of him, or do a lot for him. I just bask in the honor of being here as his daughter, to share this very private and precious time with him and his wife. We talk about dying, we talk about life, our lives, and we talk about life after death. And while I do not know when his life will end and death come, I do know that I would not have missed the honor of sharing this time with him, not for all the money in the world.
Taking the time to face our mortality, to prepare for death, to be with someone who is staring death in the face...such a precious, precious gift. Nothing else matters. I have no fear, no regrets, no indecisiveness.
It is a matter of life. And death.
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