What to Do When I'm Gone: A Mother's Wisdom to Her Daughter

by Suzy Hopkins

My story could have ended in a million ways. It doesn’t matter which one. If you asked a bunch of dead people if they were happy with how they died, I’m guessing most would want to rewrite their endings, too. However it happened, dead is dead.

Why go on if we all just die in the end? There’s a great reason. If you knew you were going to live forever, imagine how much time you’d waste. Amazing things can happen when there’s a deadline looming.

Expressing gratitude forces you to focus on living people who care about you rather than on the enormity of your loss.

What we carry of other people, even when they’re alive, is simply our perception of them, an idea. That means I’m here as long as you remember me. And since I’m here, I suggest you get busy living, seeking out happiness, moving forward.

If you lose someone important to you, you should try to replace that person. Because if you live your life losing and not replacing, you’ll end up at zero. I’m not saying you can replace your mother, and it won’t necessarily be an even trade, but I’d like you to try.

Love can hurt. Curry can help.

Grief isn’t the only byproduct of a death. And death isn’t just subtraction. You’re left with a treasure of memories that can be triggered by sights, sounds, smells—a record of how my life enriched yours.

I see happiness as contentment with what you’re doing right now. That may be nothing at all, or something ambitious, or something in between. It’s a sense of not wanting to be anywhere else.

Sitting and reading a good book, drinking tea, taking a walk with you. For me, those were life’s best moments. Better even than seeing the Taj Mahal or sailing the fjords or skiing in Switzerland. Sitting around just talking about . . . stuff. That’s what I really miss.