One of the horrible side effects of the death of a parent is the creation of fear. Your own fear.
I'm afraid now. Very very afraid. Not of being alone, orphaned, or having no place to go for the holidays. But of my own mortality.
When will I die? Will it be tomorrow? What about right in the middle of this sentence? What is that on my arm? My leg? On my cheek? Am I having a heart attack? Are my kidneys working? Is that oral cancer?
My Father died of kidney failure at the age of 77. My Mother died at the age of 73 of oral cancer. Now, that I'm 44, I can't help but do the math. 77 - 44 = 33 years. 73 - 44 = 28 years. 28 to 33 years. Will I get that many? Or less? Or more? Can I bargain?
Then you start with the questions... What's important? Does an apartment full of stuff mean anything? What's the meaning of life? Is that red spot on my forehead the start of a cancerous growth?
This is my fallout for the moment. I fear that now I only have another 28 to 33 years, maybe more, yet maybe less, and that I won't enjoy them or I'll just waste them. The clock is ticking faster. I've got so much living to do. A bucket list of dreams and goals.
I watch people run around acting like the most important thing in the world is to have something that's better, bigger, faster... I just can't get excited about the latest. In an earlier post, I said I wasn't a live-for-the-moment kind of guy. You know what -- maybe I should be.
When my Father died, I thought to myself "No more worrying about him. No more waiting for that phone call." I'm learning that's not true. You still wait for phone calls. You still worry. My worry is when does my moment come. I guess it's part of the grieving process. Maybe it's doesn't take a diagnosis to reorganize things. Maybe it's just that moment you realize that your turn will come.
The thought of "your moment" is a killer all in itself. I find myself with hard thoughts. Will I miss out? Will I find someone to "live-for-the-moment" with? Will I die alone in the middle of the night?
I know -- Wasted time, wasted thoughts. But at least I thought them. Otherwise, it would just be another day. These thoughts are the reminders of how short life is. Live for the moment.
CSM
I'm afraid now. Very very afraid. Not of being alone, orphaned, or having no place to go for the holidays. But of my own mortality.
When will I die? Will it be tomorrow? What about right in the middle of this sentence? What is that on my arm? My leg? On my cheek? Am I having a heart attack? Are my kidneys working? Is that oral cancer?
My Father died of kidney failure at the age of 77. My Mother died at the age of 73 of oral cancer. Now, that I'm 44, I can't help but do the math. 77 - 44 = 33 years. 73 - 44 = 28 years. 28 to 33 years. Will I get that many? Or less? Or more? Can I bargain?
Then you start with the questions... What's important? Does an apartment full of stuff mean anything? What's the meaning of life? Is that red spot on my forehead the start of a cancerous growth?
This is my fallout for the moment. I fear that now I only have another 28 to 33 years, maybe more, yet maybe less, and that I won't enjoy them or I'll just waste them. The clock is ticking faster. I've got so much living to do. A bucket list of dreams and goals.
I watch people run around acting like the most important thing in the world is to have something that's better, bigger, faster... I just can't get excited about the latest. In an earlier post, I said I wasn't a live-for-the-moment kind of guy. You know what -- maybe I should be.
When my Father died, I thought to myself "No more worrying about him. No more waiting for that phone call." I'm learning that's not true. You still wait for phone calls. You still worry. My worry is when does my moment come. I guess it's part of the grieving process. Maybe it's doesn't take a diagnosis to reorganize things. Maybe it's just that moment you realize that your turn will come.
The thought of "your moment" is a killer all in itself. I find myself with hard thoughts. Will I miss out? Will I find someone to "live-for-the-moment" with? Will I die alone in the middle of the night?
I know -- Wasted time, wasted thoughts. But at least I thought them. Otherwise, it would just be another day. These thoughts are the reminders of how short life is. Live for the moment.
CSM
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