When I read the newspaper, I always peruse the obituaries. I've been doing it for years now to see if I know anyone (or perhaps their parents). It must be my stage of life. Since my cancer diagnosis, I also look at the age of the people who died. If they're young(ish), I try to determine the cause, which is often discernable by the donation requests for a specific charity.
On the weekend, I was happy (and that's probably the wrong word) to note only one listing announced the death of a young man who died in a car accident. The rest were for individuals who died in their late 70s, 80s, 90s and beyond.
I know my perspective is tainted by cancer, but I'd be thrilled to make it to age 75 plus. That's 30 more years of living and experiencing all the world has to offer. It's watching my children grow up and perhaps witnessing the birth of some grandchildren. Retiring, senior-citizen curling, living in Port Franks, empty-nest syndrome with my honey and travel would fit nicely into those 30 years.
But this aggressively persistent cancer has me mulling over the wording for my own obituary. I've been planning to write it since my surgery and too-close-for-comfort brush with death, but I've been procrastinating. The words come to me easily, so I'm not sure why it's so difficult to open up a Word document and simply type them up. Maybe it's the concrete nature of having a formal obituary.
Ironically, I had an appointment with a friend who works at a funeral home scheduled for the day after my surgery. I'd planned to sit down, talk about funeral options, look at the caskets, talk about the services and make my final arrangements. Since I was recovering in the hospital, I obviously didn't make it. But it's one of those items, like the obituary, that's on my to-do list. My planner characteristics are coming through when I'm concerned about an event that will take place after I'm dead. In reality, I don't want to leave the responsibility to those who will be filled with grief when I die. A little silly, I know, but that's just me.
I'm not talking about this to be morbid or sad, but to let you know what fills my brain some days. I know it's weird to think about one's funeral, what it would be like and who would attend, but I think those who suffer serious health issues (or perhaps get to a certain age) entertain similar thoughts.
We're all marching towards death because it's an inevitable part of living. Just remember, this is one journey where it's not about reaching the finish line. Instead it's about the activities that fill those days, hours and minutes that make up a life. It's filling the time with wonderful people and activities, creating memories that will live long after we leave this earth.
Go out there and live!
Tina
Tina, I always look at the obituaries, too, ever since mom died. Like you I'm looking for ages, and what they died of, and who they left behind...I don't think it's morbid...we are looking for others, however anonymous, that share our experiences in some way. You made me laugh about planning your funeral (sorry). My mom started to plan her own, as well as lining up girlfriends for my Dad after she died (!!) and she and Dad has a fight about it. He finally told her that it was his right to plan her funeral, within the boundaries of what she wanted. If he couldn't do that, he probably wouldn't ever believe she was gone. (And he said, thanks very much, but I can find my own women.) I don't think she believed him because they met when she was 16 and he was 19). He was right. We needed to plan the funeral, right down to the plain, plain casket she wanted for cremation, but also it gave us the opportunity to know, without her having to tell us, what she would have wanted. We were able to say, "mom would have liked this," and known that we were responsible for it. Every person is different, of course. I also don't think it's morbid that you are planning your funeral...but I lived side by side with a dying woman for 6 months and I know the peace that certain things can bring a person. Western society isn't good at death...we celebrate birth, but we tend to hide death. That's wrong. We have Irish friends who get roaring drunk for a week, dance around the body of their recently deceased and take turns sitting with them and telling stories. That makes me smile. I hope all of this isn't TMI for your blog!! Hey, it look like this year we will be in Ontario for Christmas...if your chemo/treatment allows you to feel o.k. I would love to come for a quick visit as we will be staying a few minutes away from you! Good luck this week getting things going.
ReplyDeleteTina,
ReplyDeleteI, too , read the obits everyday and never know anyone! Everyone wants to plan something. Someday, (not planned YET) I hope to get cremated and have IKEA spice jars filled with me with specific directions to sprinkle me in all the amazing, wonderful places I have been and have meant something to me. If I am lucky, I will be able to finance these trips for people. Someone will be able to sprinkle me from the top of the Eiffel Tower, in the Atlantic ocean off the coast of NS with the sea lions and the puffins, at Mission Beach, California, Tsali, North Carolina, Paradise (the local, not official)in the upper peninsula of Michigan, etc, etc. You have every right to do this, and if it will put your mind at ease, so be it. I can't wait for you and Michael to have your amazing retirement, adventuring and loving life.. curling (awesome!). You are always a fighter, hero and lover of life. You will do it. Keep going...... love you!!!!!!!
Margie
Well, to quote the talented (and cute) Tim McGraw:
ReplyDelete"I asked him when it sank in,
That this might really be the real end?
How’s it hit you when you get that kind of news?
Man whatcha do?
An' he said: "I went sky diving, I went rocky mountain climbing,
"I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.
"And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter,
"And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying."
An' he said: "Some day, I hope you get the chance,
"To live like you were dyin'."
HOWEVER: In THIS situation, you are NOT dying.... yet. (as you pointed out, we all are)
I commend you on the whole taking care of funeral plans/obit thing... I've even thought about doing that.... JIC.
You know what I love about this blog? I love all the things you WANT to do with your time. Even in your low days, you teach us to appreciate what we have, and what we can do with it. I think you should take solace in the fact that even after you're gone (which will be 30-ish years from now) you will still be living on. In your family, friends, cyber-friends, research, donations, and the survivors that you helped survive.
I like Max. :)
ReplyDeleteHi Tina..can't figure out how to get my name up here..anyway..it's Michelle from Carleton. So I had to smile to myself when I read this post. I ALWAYS read the obits for precisely the same reasons you and Sandra said.
ReplyDeleteOkay and a little confession..I started creating a playlist of all my favourite music YEARS ago so that in the event that 'something' happens, those who may have to plan can at least dance to a good tune! I've even thought CDs could be handed out. The first song is 'You Sexy Thing' by Hot Chocolate. I suggest you listen to that today. It brings a smile to my face every time. xx Michelle