#19-Final Thoughts-Part A

This is a tough one. Seriously it is. It could be touching, maddening, terribly hysterical or downright embarrassing. That's why the rest of the title was "....what those thoughts say about you as a human and do you really want to know".

I'm going with the second part first. Yes. Yes, I can honestly say, I DO really want to know. Of course I will certainly be crushed to find out that a few people (surely not many, right?) saw me as a selfish, mindless, lazy, wasted bag of flesh--lots of flesh--that only thought about her own needs and the stuff she wanted. Hopefully, there are also a few who would disagree with the former view. (ah-hem...kids, to whom I was sliced open to give you birth from somewhere deep inside my body never to have those muscles again...)

BUT--the "Final Thoughts" part can be interpreted two ways. #1-Final Thoughts others have about you upon your death, or #2-Your own Final Thoughts at the moment you die. #2 will have to be considered in Final Thoughts Part B, for another post. For now, I'm considering Part A...what on earth will they say??

I find it interesting how we all think of our "final times". Coincidentally, our priest gave a homily on this very thing just last Sunday. He talked about death and dying and how you really don't ever know when your time is up, clock stops, Father Time comes knockin' at your door, so it is imperative that we not be screwing up too terribly bad at that point. What's funny is that I tend to think of myself as the same person dead as I think of myself alive. For example: Look back at that second paragraph...I wrote, "....I will certainly be crushed to find out..." like once I croak I'm going to be looming about to see and hear what everyone's got to say about me. "Hey, Hey you guys down there...let's get on with the show". But I've never thought about when the show is over. What happens if I do know what's going on and then suddenly people just begin to disperse and move on. They go on with their lives. They aren't going to talk about me that much, so I'm going to have to know what they are thinking about me when they think it. That's going to be a little bit sad I think.

I think about that too. For some reason I talk to my mother-in-law a lot. And I talk to her out loud a lot...probably more than any other deceased person I know, or, in this case, have known. I think I do it because I wish she was still here. I wish I could call her up and tell her, "Maryann, do you know what (my) kid so-and-so did now..." I know she would know exactly what to say. She had nine kids, for pete's sake! I can see her smiling ever so slightly and nodding her head with that twinkle in her eye that quietly indicated that she was bursting out laughing on the inside at all the stupid stuff I had thought or said or did as a parent. Anyhow, I think about people I've known who have died and I almost always think of them in a positive light. So, I wonder if Maryann knows that I think about her a bunch. I wonder if she hears me talk out loud to her and I wonder if I'm going to know or hear people's words and thoughts when I'm dead?-much later on down the road, of course.

Maybe that's what happens when you die. Maybe all of the sudden people don't remember all the crummy stuff you did because you are gone and those crummy things aren't as comforting to those you left behind as the good things. Or maybe positive stuff really does over power the negative stuff. Or maybe people just feel guilty for thinking a bad thing about a person who has died. But what about the people I've know who have been crummy, or what about the people I know now that are really crummy? I can't say that I've known too many really crummy people who have died already. I know some who made some really crummy choices and did some really crummy stuff that resulted in them being really dead so maybe that's the same thing. But it's interesting to take note as to whether or not we are thought of crumm-ily by those we leave behind, if, in fact, we really were a crummy person... I think the best remedy for that is for me to try to not be a really crummy person from here on out.

So, what are people going to say about me when I die? I don't have a clue. I know what I'd like for them to say. I know what I would hope they say, but who knows what they will say. People are a little funny about this too. I know my husband is. It's like he thinks it's almost "rude" to wonder about that--as if I'm overstepping my boundaries or being presumptuous. I've tried to explain that's it's more of a curiosity than anything. It's not like I'm writing out my eulogy and making someone pinky blood swear that THIS is the EXACT thing they will read at my service. I'll be honest in saying I have written a "eulogy" of sorts for a person or two, pre-death...wayyyy pre-death. I know it sounds a bit peculiar, but it's somewhat cathartic. It's a great way of getting down on paper and not forgetting what your thoughts are about a certain person and their connection to your life. Now wouldn't that be nice to know for yourself? Now. Before you pass away? Ask a friend today. See what kind of look you get.

There's another thing---the whole death and dying terminology. Do you have any idea how many people I know who think it is in bad taste to use the word "die" when someone...well..."dies". I find it hard to use anything but "that" word. But it is treated somewhat like He Who Must Not Be Named in the Harry Potter movies. Death, dying, die--that is what we do as mortal humans. I'm not sure what people mean when they say "pass on". I understand the life-after-death concept and I have great faith in that. But what if they don't pass on? Or what if it's a while before they get to the passing on part? And, where exactly does everyone who use this phrase, think the deceased is passing to? I am reminded that we are not the arbitrators of that gig. Not to mention why those who don't even believe in God or life with God, far less an after-life with or without Him may use this phrase. So, there is "passing on" and then there is the older, more simplified version where someone has simply "passed". There is also "passed away" which is very similar to "passing on", but a bit more terse--as if there is a definite finality in never running into each other, ever again. Like the difference between "Shirley has gone on..." and "Shirley has gone away". With the second, you are quite certain you will not be seeing Shirley for a very long time, if ever. The first leaves you feeling that Shirley has simply meandered her way elsewhere and you may run into her again soon.

And then there is "lost". This is my very, very least favorite. That is, if one can have a favorite or least favorite term regarding this topic. I think there should be an enforceable rule that "lost" should always, without exception, refer to a child missing in the woods somewhere...or a football or soccer game. But, "...they 'lost' Jim yesterday..." ugh. Jim is NOT lost. In fact, Jim is anything but lost. Jim now has to be transported, and then attended to in whatever way the family has deemed necessary. Someone is having to do that with and for Jim and I bet you a Diet Dr. Pepper they too would disagree that Jim was "lost". And "lost", very much conflicts with "passing on". "Lost" has a connotation of "Jim doesn't know what to do, where to go or how to get outta here now". It is very possible that Jim has always been a little air-heady like that, but Jim is dead now and I like to believe there is a definitive systematic method for soul removal, even if it's being shuffled somehow to Gate #4 for those "not sure yet", or being shuffled somehow directly to Gate #666 for those who were clearly crappy folks all along or a gentle shuffle and nudge on to Gate #9 3/4, for those who have always been headed to the "good place". A "lost" soul, still needs a place to go I think.

But I digress a bit with terminology. The point is what do the things people have to say about you after you are gone, say about you as a person. Maya Angelou said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel". I think that's nice. I hope that's true. And it would fall in line along with the aforementioned "crappy" person too--probably didn't make us feel so great, so we'd have less than great memories of that person. But, I think most of the people I know are kind, decent human beings who do make me feel nice, make me laugh, make me think, make me feel special and I bet that's how and what I would remember about them if they were to die. I sure hope I've made people feel nice.

I started this list of 20 brain storming notions as a result of my own Event, as my dear friend has coined it. So, I have that as a point of personal reference. Ironically, the morning of the first initial surgery, while my husband was driving me to the hospital, I told him, "you know what I want if something happens, right?" "What are you talking about?" "You know...if I croak or something" "What do you mean 'what you want'? You won't be here". "Well I think you underestimate my ability to make your life miserable even in my own afterlife" "True. What do you want". "Well the first thing I want is that I don't want anyone to see me dead. No open casket thing. No finding clothes or doing makeup or hair to make me look nice. I want to be cremated. And I want to be put in a pretty little pottery vase and placed in a nice quiet place of worship that is spa-like. I'd like it to smell like lavender. And a nice meaningful service and then a bang-up party. And make sure that everyone has a drink, a toast of sorts. And then give all my scrapbook stuff to Teresa. Don't let the kids toss everything right now. It may mean something to one of them later" Yep, I got all that in from 101st & Sheridan to 71st & Hwy. 75. It's a long drive, but he listened, so that was good.

But, the next day, while I was desperately trying to hold on to life's last breath, literally, I thought about my family in a different way. I hoped my husband would be sad--I mean, you know...he'd miss me for something more than the fact that I keep his underwear drawer fairly tidy, not to mention filled with super duper clean underwear. I don't ever want someone to be sad, but I kept thinking that I'd hoped I'd done enough. More than the underwear and the dishes and the taxi service and the crummy meals. Enough to make my family feel happy about me and think of me in that positive light that I do my mother-in-law. What's funny is since I didn't die, I got to hear some of the things they were thinking. They were personal, but the one that surprised me the most was that they thought how sad it was that I'd never see or know my grand-children. You know what that means? That means that I may have grandchildren one day and I hadn't even thought about those things during my Event. But they had. They knew how much I loved being with people and family and friends. And that made them feel sad for me and for themselves.

People have told me they were glad I didn't die. I'm glad they were glad. That made me feel nice. I was glad too. Of course, for you who haven't mentioned that to me, don't worry that I'm sitting around making a list of who was glad I didn't die and who wasn't. I'm not. I just think it's an eye-opener of sorts. To almost maybe sort of die and then not--it makes you and the people around you think about all the "what if's". And it makes you wonder about the "would've's". I want people to say nice things about me when I pack 'er in, hang it up, kick the bucket. I want to be missed. And, after listening to my priest this past week, I want my family to grieve...that is, when the time comes for real.

Until then, I want to remember the do-over I get so that when the time comes that I am hovering around all of you and watching and listening to all of your comments I won't be crushed to find out that I blew it--not once, but twice.