Terrifying isn’t it to imagine but never truly comprehend one’s non-existence - one’s relative non-importance to those who remain, and go about leading their own lives when the ships come for us. Only one solution, albeit a temporary one. Live. To life, Paula!
Aren't you sometimes glad about the things you won't have to deal with? And have therefore every reason to ignore? For instance, AI. I care as fiercely about the environment as if I were going to live forever, and still am glad that I won't live to see the worst that awaits.
Thank you for sharing your perspective on mortality, Paula. It inspires some thinking. I actually don't have a problem with my own mortality. It's the lead up I worry about.
Thanks, Stacey. I expect you're referring to the post about putting up a tree soon after Jack died. Just went back and read it again--and shed a few tears myself.
My father shared this writing with me. It struck a cord with him, as the topic obviously has for you. For me, I just love your writing! Dad often shares your stories with me and I find a cozy place to fully read them without distraction. Except for the time I read the one, maybe entitled the Christmas Tree?, where I was standing in line at the post office in a Shopper's Drug store at Christmastime with tears streaming down my face. This story is still my favorite.
Hello Paula - new fan here, so nice to e-meet you :) I enjoyed your post very much, even though it’s not a topic a lot of people want to spend their time considering, lolol. I have had such an amazing life, although it has been filled with a lot of family sickness and tragedy, which I won’t get into… many of my posts (“The Wistful Neo-Druid”) deal with the chapters that have shaped me as a writer and as the human being I am now. Up until last year I felt pretty “cocky” about life. I’ve had several brushes with death in the past, and for some reason I thought I was “flame proof”, lolol. Then last year I was diagnosed with inoperable ovarian cancer. I watched my sister die of breast cancer and I know what is in store for me. I thank the heavens that we now have “MAID” (Medical Assistance in Dying) and after they took out the cancer they could get to, my first order of business was having my Psychiatric Assessment with two MAID Psychiatrists. I cannot tell you how much peace of mind this has given me. So, whenever I decide it’s time, and who knows when that will be, I can let them know I need them, and my husband won’t have to go through months and months of watching me waste away, which is so horrific. Anyways, sorry for writing a book in your comments. I am looking forward to reading more of your posts, and I hope you may come by to read some of mine. I look forward to getting to know you.
Thank you. I appreciate your post. Dealing with a death this year, I have found myself more and more asking “what’s the meaning,” like your Eeyore moment: “Alas, when I allow myself to focus on that shortening horizon, I’m more inclined to respond with a shrug and ask What’s the point, then? I suppose that makes me Eeyore.” Interesting to contemplate Piglet’s approach.
Hi Paula, It's been four years since my husband died, and I took care of him for the previous years as he grappled with dementia and lost. I know the missing, and sometimes ask myself what the point is. Thank you for your lovely post. Take Care.
Thank you. This post was suggested by my friend, Barb Todd, whose husband, Michael Century is your cousin. This is a form of immortality, the spreading roots, the seeds of discovery. I am 78 and think of these issues frequently. I can't imagine having "figured it out" by age 50 and suspect the woman in the parking lot has some rude, or perhaps inspiring awakenings ahead. A lovely post. I won't sign up because I never find time to follow then feel guilty. (what's that about). Or maybe I will, but I really appreciate your writing.
I join the outpouring of gratitude for the honesty of your writing. This is a subject we all hold in common. There is no one who does not have experiences of death and ideas about what it might mean. Still, in the end (no pun intended), the core of mortality is its unknowability. It's the mystery that cries out for acceptance. When it happens...and there's no knowing when that will be...we will still not know what it is.
I loved this piece Paula. Beautifully written. With my 70th birthday approaching, my mortality, which for the last few years has only played a “bit part” in the “theatre of my mind”, is inching its way closer to the leading role. There seems to be a constant battle in there; in my mind I’m still a teenager partying with my friends, yet I am sometimes haunted by the fact that it could all end very abruptly at any time. But, I am a Piglet by nature, so although I’ll never have a bucket list that includes sky diving or bungee jumping, I will strive to uphold my reputation as a party girl — in my husband’s eyes, in my friends’ eyes, in my children’s eyes, and best of all, in my grandchildren’s eyes!
There is a song by Boris Vian :
Life is like a tooth
First you are not aware of it
You chew happily.
One day it begins to hurt
So you take care of it
You don’t want to lose it
But it keeps worrying you
And to be completely rid of the pain
You have to pull it out.
Terrifying isn’t it to imagine but never truly comprehend one’s non-existence - one’s relative non-importance to those who remain, and go about leading their own lives when the ships come for us. Only one solution, albeit a temporary one. Live. To life, Paula!
Aren't you sometimes glad about the things you won't have to deal with? And have therefore every reason to ignore? For instance, AI. I care as fiercely about the environment as if I were going to live forever, and still am glad that I won't live to see the worst that awaits.
Yes...grateful that I won't have to deal with them. But my grandchildren will, so I have trouble ignoring them.
Yes. Of course.
Thank you for sharing your perspective on mortality, Paula. It inspires some thinking. I actually don't have a problem with my own mortality. It's the lead up I worry about.
Thanks, Stacey. I expect you're referring to the post about putting up a tree soon after Jack died. Just went back and read it again--and shed a few tears myself.
Paula,
My father shared this writing with me. It struck a cord with him, as the topic obviously has for you. For me, I just love your writing! Dad often shares your stories with me and I find a cozy place to fully read them without distraction. Except for the time I read the one, maybe entitled the Christmas Tree?, where I was standing in line at the post office in a Shopper's Drug store at Christmastime with tears streaming down my face. This story is still my favorite.
Stacey Ross
Loved this.
Hello Paula - new fan here, so nice to e-meet you :) I enjoyed your post very much, even though it’s not a topic a lot of people want to spend their time considering, lolol. I have had such an amazing life, although it has been filled with a lot of family sickness and tragedy, which I won’t get into… many of my posts (“The Wistful Neo-Druid”) deal with the chapters that have shaped me as a writer and as the human being I am now. Up until last year I felt pretty “cocky” about life. I’ve had several brushes with death in the past, and for some reason I thought I was “flame proof”, lolol. Then last year I was diagnosed with inoperable ovarian cancer. I watched my sister die of breast cancer and I know what is in store for me. I thank the heavens that we now have “MAID” (Medical Assistance in Dying) and after they took out the cancer they could get to, my first order of business was having my Psychiatric Assessment with two MAID Psychiatrists. I cannot tell you how much peace of mind this has given me. So, whenever I decide it’s time, and who knows when that will be, I can let them know I need them, and my husband won’t have to go through months and months of watching me waste away, which is so horrific. Anyways, sorry for writing a book in your comments. I am looking forward to reading more of your posts, and I hope you may come by to read some of mine. I look forward to getting to know you.
Wonderful, thoughtful piece. Thank you. I too respond to the Piglet side of me.
Thank you. I appreciate your post. Dealing with a death this year, I have found myself more and more asking “what’s the meaning,” like your Eeyore moment: “Alas, when I allow myself to focus on that shortening horizon, I’m more inclined to respond with a shrug and ask What’s the point, then? I suppose that makes me Eeyore.” Interesting to contemplate Piglet’s approach.
Hi Paula, It's been four years since my husband died, and I took care of him for the previous years as he grappled with dementia and lost. I know the missing, and sometimes ask myself what the point is. Thank you for your lovely post. Take Care.
My goodness! I'll follow the breadcrumbs.
Thank you. This post was suggested by my friend, Barb Todd, whose husband, Michael Century is your cousin. This is a form of immortality, the spreading roots, the seeds of discovery. I am 78 and think of these issues frequently. I can't imagine having "figured it out" by age 50 and suspect the woman in the parking lot has some rude, or perhaps inspiring awakenings ahead. A lovely post. I won't sign up because I never find time to follow then feel guilty. (what's that about). Or maybe I will, but I really appreciate your writing.
I'm really curious about the other Paula Dunning--but it's not me!
Oh dear! We have our own wonderful Paula Dunning.
I join the outpouring of gratitude for the honesty of your writing. This is a subject we all hold in common. There is no one who does not have experiences of death and ideas about what it might mean. Still, in the end (no pun intended), the core of mortality is its unknowability. It's the mystery that cries out for acceptance. When it happens...and there's no knowing when that will be...we will still not know what it is.
I loved this piece Paula. Beautifully written. With my 70th birthday approaching, my mortality, which for the last few years has only played a “bit part” in the “theatre of my mind”, is inching its way closer to the leading role. There seems to be a constant battle in there; in my mind I’m still a teenager partying with my friends, yet I am sometimes haunted by the fact that it could all end very abruptly at any time. But, I am a Piglet by nature, so although I’ll never have a bucket list that includes sky diving or bungee jumping, I will strive to uphold my reputation as a party girl — in my husband’s eyes, in my friends’ eyes, in my children’s eyes, and best of all, in my grandchildren’s eyes!
Upholding our reputations in our grandchildren’s eyes- yes, right on!
What a beautiful and honest reflection, Paula. And I agree: acknowledge the our ever-closer finite reality, and carpe diem!