I heard from my cousin this week that her mom is actively dying. It has been a long year for her. And, a long life.
I don't know how old my aunt is today. She has lived at least seven decades, closer to eight and definitely a few years longer than my mom, who died suddenly in her sleep just short of her 65th birthday.
Nobody really wants to think about dying. Least of all me. I love living. I hope I feel like this all the way up to my very last day.
I sat at my desk yesterday, unable to focus very well as sadness welled up in waves. I'm a realist and usually news of someone's (imminent) death doesn't shake me so much. Don't judge. I'm not a cold-hearted woman. I know dying is part of the deal we get when we arrive in the world. If you think about it very long, we are all headed that way every single day. My wish is that I always find a good reason to get up in the morning and treasure the day that hasn't been promised. Squeeze every little bit of good and fun from it. Know what I mean?
I'm half-way through my fifth decade and the years simply fly by. This news has been a wake-up call for me this week. I've been hibernating and in survival mode for more than a few days. The cold and dark has taken its annual, seasonal toll on me. I've texted a few friends who know me well, who say just the right things that help keep my chin up until the light and warmth, especially the light, come back.
Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment. I actually got on the treadmill this morning for an entire 30 minutes. I can't stand the thought of him asking me if I'm exercising. With a straight face, I'll say sometimes.
Do you think much about death? Do you ever talk about it with your loved ones?
What I really wanna know ... do you exercise?