My Impending Demise

We think we have time. The question is, “how much?” That leads to other questions. Will I be satisfied with how I lived my life? What is it I’d like to complete before I die? What will I leave behind?

I recently attended my cousin’s funeral. She was 81. Her son said, “I assumed we’d have another ten years with her; I was wrong.” Odds are good that I’ll live to my mid-80s or 90s. Odds are equally as good that I won’t. Things happen. If my math is correct, I have 57 first cousins (born from 1920 to 1959), 22 of whom have died. I’m the youngest of the brood on my Chatfield side, and eighth youngest on the Clemens. As the deaths of this generation occur with increasing regularity, my impending demise moves to the forefront of my imagination.

Chatfield, Chamberlin and Hoy Genealogy

Responses to my three questions:

1. Will I be satisfied with how I lived my life? For the most part. I’ve participated in the creation of two children, two grandchildren, and three successful businesses. I’ve helped hundreds of friends and clients buy and sell their homes, and in that process was intimately a part of their lives. I’ve contributed my time and abilities to teachers, organizations, my community, and schools. I’ve written and published two books, compiled a number of genealogies, and provided a vast amount of genealogical information on line. I’ve had the courage and tenacity to play big in some arenas. I’ve cleaned up the majority of my inner litter. Willing to reveal myself, I’m willing to talk about things others won’t, to be an example of another way to do it. Much of what I’ve imparted to others—both in business, personal transformation, and in my writing—has made a difference, and a part of me remains with those that allowed me to contribute to them. Luckily, I have friends and family who care about me. I would die bereft if I thought no one cared, that there was no intimacy, no love in my life. I know what that feels like; it’s painful. My mother died like that; the choices she made throughout her life confirmed the way she died. .

2. What would I like to do before I die? I don’t have much on my to-do list other than returning old family pictures loaned to me, dealing with the thousands of genealogy correspondence in my inbox (this one may be complete fantasy on my part), and completing and publishing a family memoir that I started 15 years ago. I’d also write a book on the specific childhood event that forms who we are and what we become, our “incident.” It would be stories about “where we are the most wounded, we are the most accomplished.” I’ve heard and worked with hundreds of people and helped ferret out their defining moments, and it’s a fascinating study. I think I have time, but we know how that goes. Who knows what will befall me or when my time will come. While I still have some stamina and most of my marbles, I might want to get crackin’ on these things. I don’t have a lot of loose ends, unrealized hopes, relationships that need cleaning up, or ironing to do before I go. Actually—other than my garage—my past, present, and future are in pretty good shape, all things considered. It’s not my nature to be messy so this doesn’t surprise me. If I have time to complete my wish list, I’ll take care them, If I don’t, I won’t.

G-G-Grandfather, Saints Peter and Paul Cemetery, Mazeppa, MN

3. What will I leave behind? A documented chronicle of our family legacy reaching back to the time our ancestors came to this country. For seven-some years I’ve compiled over 7,000 pages on-line of those I am related to by blood or marriage, and a few are on there to whom I’m related to by grace. I hope I’ve loosened some of the anger and angst that afflicts so many in my family, both living and dead. I’ve diluted the resentment I bring to the party. I’ll leave behind my consciousness, my humor, and my wisdom; I wrote it all down for those who are interested. I’ll leave behind the sagacity, the acute mental discernment and soundness of judgment my teachers imparted to me, as I’ve paid that knowing forward. Unless I have a giant garage sale, I’ll also be leaving behind a lot of stuff; things I’ve loved and enjoyed over the years, but things I won’t take with me. If I don’t outlive my money, I’ll leave what’s left of that too.

Am I afraid to die? I’ve no idea. It’s an “in the moment” process, mysterious and profound, and I don’t know that any of us knows how much grace, or dis-grace, will cling to us when we die. I suppose part of it depends upon the circumstances. I have little guilt gripping me, I’m no longer weighted by the shame I‘ve carried, and I’m not holding onto unspoken words. Well, I’ve some, but speaking them wouldn’t be worth the fallout. It’s fine to leave some things unsaid. Besides, it’s my stuff, not theirs.

Third Eye Chakra, Mandala Healing Art by Sarah Niebank

I don’t believe that death is “it.” I’m curious to see if those who’ve passed before me will be there to greet me. I wonder if my consciousness will be able to connect to the earthly plane. I’ve felt others who have passed connect with me, so why won’t my energy be able to do that? Will I still have work to do on the other side? Is there another side? Maybe I’ll go to Arcturas and search for my cousin Aura. That’s where she came from, and where she returned when she died. Will I re-incarnate? Does karma play into any of it? Will I get another chance, a do-over? Will I return with more work to do around my mother? I  mean really, enough is enough already.

As I age, I see how fleeting my life has been. The older I get, the faster it goes. In ten years I’ll be nearly 78. It will likely be harder to roll out of bed in the morning, more challenging to keep up with my grandchildren who will nearly be adults themselves by then, and impossible for me to get to Carnegie Hall, no matter how much I practice. I’m not as caught up in everything as I used to be; it takes too much energy to maintain that stride. I like this pace of slowing down. Time is an illusion, but it gives a sense to living. So in this moment, I have time.