If I die young....

Listening to this song and thinking. Life isn't guaranteed for anyone, is it?

I don't believe that thinking about dying is morbid. If I talk about dying with some people, they get all antsy and upset as if I might be plotting my death, or as if the universe would come to a screeching halt should I cease to breathe. I'm no fool. I am aware that is far from the truth. Dying is a reality of life. It would be foolish to pretend that we could be invincible or immortal, imperfect and broken humans as we are. Shouldn't we, rather, accept the fact that life inevitably ends so that we may embrace what precious little time we have now? Shouldn't we hold our loved ones that much closer and dearer in appreciation of that singular truth?

I wonder what my parting wishes would be.

Top priority, obviously, goes to my children. I love them fiercely. I want them to be happy, to be cared for, to know that I loved them better than anyone else ever could. I would want them to know that I struggled through pregnancy and labor and birth and endured that awful pain, and that I felt it was completely worth every single itty bitty second. I would never take any of it back. Love like that comes once in a lifetime, that is, the love of a mother. So many children suffer through life without, and that depresses me on an incredibly deep level. I want my children to know that they are special and valued and that I would willingly give my life for them. I want them to grow to be happy, productive adults, pursuing the service of Jehovah. Nothing could make a mother happier, could it?

I have so many other friends and loved ones. My husband. My mother. My siblings. My extended family. My close and distant friends. I love them all. And shouldn't they know it? Perhaps they don't know how I appreciate them, even the slightest of acquaintances. I would do nearly anything for any of them. (Float you a hunned til next week? I'd love to... if I had it!) I don't think people understand that about me. Some do, some take advantage of the fact, but I can't say no. I can't turn a person down if they really need me.

I want my friends to know I'm sorry for withdrawing from them. For pushing them away. I don't keep in close contact with anyone anymore. I should. I know. I get so distracted with life. With the struggle. With depression. But despite all that, it doesn't mean I love any of them any less. I do. Just as fiercely as always.

I want people to remember the good things.

Like how dearly I love my children. How I love my friends. Even though I have a bad habit of saying stupid things. Being impatient. Pushing people away. I hope they still remember the good.

Or how I love to write. And the fact that I am fairly decent at it. I'm not confident in my ability to write a full blown novel. I have difficulties with plot. Developing it, using it to captivate an audience, being believable, flowing smoothly through the story. I'm working at it. One day, maybe.

Or the patients at work. I hope they remember that I took their problems as my own and went out of my way to help them as I could. I hope they say that I was pleasant and helpful and maybe sometimes entertaining.

That's another thing. I'm no comedian, and I have a weird sense of humor, but I do my best to make people laugh, sometimes to the extent of looking like an idiot. I hate to see my friends sad or down. Sometimes a good, listening ear is required. And sometimes a goofy face or stupid joke suffice. That's my favorite thing to do. Behave like a goon.

When you think about it, a post like this sounds a lot like a self-horn-tooting. And it is, really. But more than that. A request to be remembered and loved. Isn't that what we all strive for? I'm not sure of much of anything, but I know this for a certainty. If you leave behind no love and no good memories, you leave behind nothing at all. You could be the richest man in the world, but unless you love and have been loved, you are easily forgettable. You fade away into nothing. That's what matters. Love. Family. Friends. Heart.

I'm a sentimental goober.

This is true.

Til we meet again, blog friends,
Alex.Is