What We Think
I was so busy today. Two doctor’s appointments, one for Aland one for me. Running errands for Al…
I was so busy today. Two doctor’s appointments, one for Al and one for me. Running errands for Al here and there. I am beat. Another reason I am beat is for the last two nights Al has slept for about five hours each night.
I want to apologize for not doing what I enjoy and commenting and liking your posts today. I just can’t do it. I am too exhausted and am praying for an early sleep.
Last night Al was having a rough night. Not with the illness itself, but with the mental part of understanding of his illness.
He evidently had been pondering on his funeral. He was asking me questions and I was answering the best I could. Then he started crying and was actually getting upset. He started getting mad at our Aunt in Florida and our half-sister.
The conversation went pretty much like this.
” This illness is going to take my life and no one cares. I fight and fight and I can’t get it to go a way. One of these days I am going to lay in a casket. Who is going to be at my funeral? I bet Aunt Mary won’t be there. She don’t like me. She wouldn’t come see me when we were in Florida. She never sends you letters through your computer. She never calls me. She don’t like me. I bet she don’t even remember who I am. Do you think Julie will come? Julie doesn’t care about me either. You told her I was sick and she doesn’t come see me. Do you think she will be at my funeral?”
This is a good part of the conversation I heard last night. He was really crying and I think he really wishes his aunt and sister would come to his funeral. He told me no one would be there but me.
I told him all of us would be there. I told him everyone from his old work place would be there and his church. I told him that it would be one of the biggest funerals I have ever been too.
I don’t know what or will be there, but I do know when I told him it would be a big funeral and so many there would be just for him, he seemed to settle a little. The tears went from gushing to a slow stream.
Al must be doing a lot of thinking. It feels strange because he is having good days again but yet his mind is on his death.
My Own Death Becomes Me
I admit that I think about death and the there after too much. It is hard not to when I am…
I admit that I think about death and the there after too much. It is hard not to when I am constantly surrounded by people who deal with it. When I am told that Al is really sick. There will come a time when death will be the last thing I think of. Instead I will be thinking, beach, cabins, love and sunshine.
So thus stating this; you will understand my next sentences. I was laying in bed last night. My body ached, so I lie on my back. Suddenly my mind saw a casket. It was my casket. I was imagining what my own funeral would be like.
How would I look to others?
Would there be make-up plastered on my face so I was unrecognizable. What would I be wearing? What clothes would my children pick out for me?
I imagined how comfortable I would be stretched out in my tight-fitting box. Do you think the casket companies can make these in an extra-wide, like they do in shoe sizes? I have a few layers of fat that roll to the side when I lay on my back.
I even noticed that my once perky boobs were now fallen to the side; although my stomach did look flatter.
I practiced positioning myself in my bed as I would be sewn together to stay in place in my casket. I placed my hands over my stomach and closed my eyes. Head facing the ceiling I lay there for only a few moments when I started getting a headache.
I realized than that I can not be buried like the conventional person. I must have changes made for my own personal comfort. When I pictured how it should be I saw a whole different scene play out.
First of all, let’s kick off that granny, print dress. Let’s change that formal look to one I am more comfortable in. Let’s throw on some shorts and Tees. Let’s get rid of that hair spray and stiff hair that smells of old age and throw in some casual soft curls.
Get that thick make-up off of me and just let me be myself, natural. I like a look that you will have no doubt in who I am.
Now take me off my back. After all I don’t want to have to order that extra wide coffin.
And the headaches have got to go. Lay me on my side. Let me prop my head on my arm which is tucked under my pillow.
Get rid of that tiny satin pillow and give me the one I have slept with for so long. After all, this is going to be a long nap I am taking.
Now I want my bible tucked towards the side of my arm. I like to rest my hand on it as I fall asleep.
Make sure you put a couple of cartons of smokes and a few lighters beside me. Just sort of hide them. There may be non-smokers at my funeral and I don’t want to gross them out. I know, they are bad for me, but I have some bad habits, don’t you?
Next, but not last, is the flowers. Make sure I am surrounded by beautiful flowers. No roses please. I am terribly allergic to roses. If I start sneezing and I rise and look around and see those flowers, I will know I have an enemy somewhere in here.
Instead just bring some pretty plants and some Lilys. I love Lily flowers.
Let’s not have any of that sad organ music. Instead let’s have some of my old-time favorites. My favorite group to listen to when I was a teen was The Carpenters.
Let’s not cry please. I won’t be providing any tissues. Instead let’s have a party and celebrate my life.
Everyone dance, eat and drink ice-tea or coffee.
Let us all rejoice that today is the birthday of my new day in heaven.
I hope that you will all attend, yes you, all of my friends.
Can we control our feelings, or do our feelings control us? Can we stand in front of a man who we have proclaimed our hearts and body to, and listen to the words, that he no longer loves me? Do we fall apart, cry in front of him, cause a scene, or do we show our wall, let him see that it doesn’t matter that he just ripped our heart out, turn around, and reaching for our purse, we walk out of the door holding our heads high?
When a loved one is dying, do we go visit, or do we stay away? Do we walk up to the bed and lean in and let the tears flow, showing them how much we care? Do we take a hold of the pale, limp hand and give it a light squeeze, whispering how much we have loved and admired them through out our time of knowing them here on earth. Or do we stand back, with our backs erected, a smile glued to our cheeks, letting the one that we love more than life itself, know that we are strong, that we can get through this, that we shall carry on with our lives just fine?
The excitement that most of us feel when we learn we are pregnant, explodes among family members, as the joy of a bundle of love, is coming into our lives. Is each of us ready for this? Is there any that wish other wise, that this would never have happened? Do we pretend in front of familiar faces, nodding our heads, smiling at the future, agreeing with what is said, or are there others who wish they could speak up, to show the hidden fears of having a child, maybe with a father or without a father for the child. Not wanting to disappoint loved ones, but turning into our pillows in the darkness of the nights, letting tears comfort us into a restless sleep?
What is it that causes some of us to be stronger than others? Upbringing, fear of nothing, love for our own person, what makes each of us different? Do each of us deserve and also have the right to be happy with our own lives we have created? Have we followed our own paths? Have we followed our hearts? Have we listened to our inner spirit speaking, or do we do, as others wish us to do in order to keep others happy at the expense of our own souls being happy?
What are our choices in life? Who do we want to be? Who do we want to look up to us? I find own self questioning my own self in this late period of my life. Who have I really been being true to? Myself, my family, my friends? What were my goals, and how have they changed through the years? Am I the same person I was ten years ago? Am I happy with who I will be in ten years from now?
The greatest gift I could give myself, is freedom this year at Christmas. Freedom to be the person I was born to be, freedom to not run when faced with fear of rejection, free to love myself first, and to realize not everyone will love me back. I say now is the time, if there are changes to be made, let me make them now, this year, allow myself the privilege to be happy, to be accepted for what I represent. What do I want to hear if I am lying on my death-bed dying from an incurable cancer, what is it that my ears wish to hear…………….