The joy of knowing your days are numbered seems like a very odd notion to those that I have mentioned this sentiment to. Their response is often to cut me off and say something like, “You shouldn't think that way!” But I DO think that way and it gives me a sense of quiet purpose.
I have been thinking about this for some time now. I suppose it comes along with age or as a result of losing my mother when I was only 19 years old, but even when I was younger I contemplated this idea much.
I don’t view it as negative but as liberating. I do admit that there are times when it makes me feel a bit panicked knowing that there are so many dreamy endeavors that I have not yet experienced or even worse some that I have not even attempted! They're not all dreamy, but important and consist of routine and simple tasks like organizing files and pictures for my children.
The list is long and even old.
Some things on the list are entirely selfish like, visiting the Redwood forest, driving through a Sequoia tree, ( a picture I saw once in a grade school textbook) the Vatican, or viewing the lights in Marfa.
But some are simple like gracing a young couple in my family with a treat like filling their pantry to the brim or surprising family members with a dinner and a great bottle of wine, or getting together with old friends, and even better with friends that also happen to be family. The list is long and I don’t know if I will ever get it done, but it gives me purpose to think about doing so.
As Providence would have it, Sunday’s homily nudged me to write down what I have only been contemplating as of late.
I am always struck by the heaviness of the weight we carry both physically and mentally, whenever I recall the days after the loss of a loved one. There are two times in particular that come to mind when I think of how meaningless our worldly possessions are and how important the love we leave behind is. The first was after my mother died and I walked into her closet and buried my face in her clothes. The second was after my father-in-law died and I walked into his garage and looked around at the years of carefully collected and organized tools and gadgets. They left for us memories and emotions that can be brought to mind whenever we think of them. However, they both left with nothing and they left light and unburdened.
I mention the above mostly for my own benefit as a try to prepare daily for the two most important times in my life. Those times are the ‘now’ and at the ‘hour’ of my death.
Living in the now has proven to be more difficult than it seems. So I will focus daily on that goal, that purpose, and trust that all the ‘NOWS’ will someday be enough for the ‘Last Hour.’
“Now and at the hour of my death.” ( A Catholic Prayer)
I KNOW my days are numbered and there is joy and soft sadness in knowing that.
“I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold of this life. What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a bud in the forest at midnight? When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I was no stranger in this world, that the inscrutable without name and form had taken me in its arms in the form of my own mother. Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away to find in the very next moment its consolation in the left one.” ~ Rabindranath Tagore
A part of a favorite poem of mine first published in December 1912 in Poetry Magazine.
Thomas Merton wrote “Today will never come again.”
This sentiment brings to light the importance of Now! Living in the now and appreciating every day given IS in part, my purpose.
Humbly Seeking Purpose,
