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

by Suzy Hopkins

Why did this happen the way it did? Could it have been prevented? Are you tempted to blame me for how I wrote my own demise: smoking, drinking, lackluster gym workouts? Go ahead, rewrite my ending. I’m not attached to it anymore.

Your parent’s death is nature’s way of breaking the shocking news that it’s your turn next.

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.

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.

It’s 3 a.m. and you can’t call me because, well, I’m dead. If I wasn’t, here’s what I would say: “I’m sorry you can’t sleep. Can I make you some tea?

Even if I’m dead, I’d like to be a grandmother.

Grief isn’t the only byproduct of a death. And death isn’t just subtraction.