A meme I’ve seen many times before came across my Facebook page today:
“One day, you are going to hug your last hug, kiss your last kiss and hear someone’s voice for the last time…. But you never know when the last time will be. Live every day as if it were the last time you will be with the person you love.”
For whatever reason, this is a lesson that I – along with many of my generation – learned early on. For those of us who survived the AIDS plague in the 1980s (etc.), we were forced to learn that Time is not guaranteed. Our friends, family, heroes were dying much sooner than anyone expected – while there was often “warning” because AIDS was a deteriorating death, it moved at different speeds with different people.
But the truth in this meme was really brought home to me when my friend Lucy was killed walking across the Ballard bridge by a ladder that came loose from a passing truck and hit her in the neck, snapping it instantly.
I spent hours internally debating which alternative I would prefer: instant death with no warning or slow deteriorating death with time to prepare, get affairs in order, and say my “goodbyes.” Arguments could be made for both options, but ultimately, I decided I’d prefer the time to say “goodbye,” even if it meant enduring some physical pain.
When I was 42, my mother died at age 65 – after a week in a medically induced coma to ease the massive pain she was in from a full-body staph infection. No “goodbyes” were possible. Any time she was brought close to consciousness, she began screaming in pain.
Two years later, we lost our father from a stroke at age 72. Some communication was possible towards him, but he could not communicate back. He passed one week after the actual stroke – I think he realized he wouldn’t be able to have his old life back and chose to go wherever Mama had gone.
Having a week’s warning between the “event” and the actual death gave us time to put ourselves in order around their deaths – mostly coming to terms with the fact that nothing that could be done to stop the deaths, only make them as comfortable as possible. At least with Daddy, we were able to express our love and thanks so he could hear them…. although I don’t think I did that as well as I could have.
So at 44, there I was without either parent, without grandparents, left to come to terms with things I possibly should have done or said that I didn’t get around to before their times ran out.
I’ve lived 1/3 more of my life without parents on this plane now. I think of them, and many other souls important to me who have moved on, daily. I’m (sometimes painfully) aware that there is no guarantee of Time and we should indeed grab every moment possible with those we love while we can.
At the risk of sounding reminiscent of Clint Eastwood demanding, “Get off my lawn!” I’m often frustrated with the generations behind me. They seem to me to be impatient, usually self-serving, and blissfully unaware that Time is not guaranteed.
There’s been a theme this summer in my world – people I cherish not taking advantage of Time…. assuming there’ll be future options…. choosing to do what is most convenient or luxurious at the moment rather than taking even a few moments to share with loved ones.
While in some cases, it’s true that my feelings have been hurt because Time I was looking forward to sharing was denied me, it’s also true that I feel sad looking ahead, knowing from my own experience that those who chose to not connect when there was opportunity are likely to regret that choice and will have to live with whatever regrets/disappointments will come to them down the line. Evidently there’s no way for me to impart wisdom I’ve acquired in this area to younger minds.
Perhaps, in hindsight, there were more benefits to my generation’s survival of a plague or two than we realized at the time. It would seem that the lesson of the fleetness of Time can only be learned when Time repeatedly takes people away from us.
It seems that each of us has our own lessons to learn in life – each generation collectively and individually.
Today, while feeling some natural disappointment, I also find myself quite grateful that I have a sense of the impermanence of Time and not only know but work to grab every opportunity available to spend time with those I care for. Shared Time is the best gift we can give.
