"Let us prepare our minds as if we'd come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life's books each day.... The one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time." --Seneca
Caveat: This post involves a discussion of death. If you are sensitive about this topic, or you feel it is “too morbid” (as Mom used to say)—then all the more reason for you to read on.
Caveat: This post involves a discussion of death. If you are sensitive about this topic, or you feel it is “too morbid” (as Mom used to say)—then all the more reason for you to read on.
Spoiler
alert: We’re all going to die. I mean, seriously, folks; no one gets out alive.
Well,
Boomers, it’s been a good run. We had the Beatles (or, if you prefer, the
Stones), the sexual revolution, the signing of the Civil Rights Act, and we
watched a man walk on the moon. We witnessed the end of apartheid in South
Africa. We learned how to use computers so we could forward funny emails and
see photos of our grandkids on Facebook. We were dragged into using smart
phones—but now we never put them down so we can post even more pictures of our
grandkids—and our pets, who are now our “babies”—on Facebook (and, if we’re
still learning, on Twitter and Instagram). We can now embrace our gay and
transgender friends in public, and we can happily introduce them as “married”
or whatever. We elected a President of African descent.
On
the flip side (for those of you unfamiliar with the term, it has to do with
turning over a vinyl record), we participated in global warming. We struggled
through the Vietnam War era, whether we agreed or disagreed with that military
action. We saw heroes like Martin Luther King, Jr. (and many, many others) shot
down (or lynched or beaten) for their stand against injustice. We witnessed the
horror of September 11, 2001. (Just writing that sentence brought tears to my
eyes.)
And
now this. Medical authorities are still gathering data and creating statistical
models, but at this point it looks like, if you’re my age, 1 in 10 of you will
die if you are infected with COVID-19. Your risk is higher than the general
population if you have “underlying respiratory issues.”
And,
Boomers, who doesn’t? We’ve got asthma, COPD, emphysema, and, in my case,
bronchiectasis from all those cigarettes we smoked and joints we passed around.
(Well, not in my case; I’m a non-smoker who, to this date, has still
never taken a toke from a doobie, but I do have congenital bronchiectasis.)
So,
my question is, what are you doing while you’re waiting to die? Just sitting
there? Wringing your hands and worrying that you’re next in line for the Grim
Reaper’s knock at the door?
Stop. Stop it right now. Okay, go wash your hands thoroughly then come back.
Feel
better? Good. Now make a plan.
Is
your will up to date? If not, get ‘er done today.
Have
you written out plans for your demise? (Do Not Resuscitate! Play James Taylor songs
at my memorial service. Spread my ashes in Missouri. Whatever you do, don’t
take Thomas off of Science Diet dog food!)
Speaking
of pets: I’ve written out instructions as to how to feed my crew. My son (bless
him!) has promised to come from Ohio and stay in my house and care for “my fur babies”
should I need to be hospitalized.
Which
reminds me: I need to leave instructions on how to pay the rent.
And,
hey kids! All my log-in passwords are in the…. Oh wait. I’d better tell them
that privately.
With
all of those instructions laid out, what is left for you to ‘balance life’s
books’? Where do you need to add the “finishing touches”? We are all going to
transition eventually. Let’s don’t leave a tangled mess for our kids to sort
through.
That
was a lesson I learned from my mom. In the months before her death—even though
she wasn’t sick—she took me and my brother aside to explain her finances, her
life insurance policies, and the pre-paid plans for her cremation and memorial
services. What a relief and a blessing it was that, in our grief, few decisions
had to be made.
I’m
kicking myself now for not pre-paying my cremation. Sorry, kids. Take it out of
my bank account.
Last
week, our biggest problem was finding toilet paper. This week, our biggest
problem has been finding food. Next week, our greatest sorrow will be when our
friends or family members become ill or pass away, and we cannot be with them
to comfort them or say good-bye. (Which is another point taken; start saying
your I love yous to everyone now.)
Grief
will shut us down quick, make no mistake about that.
In
the meantime, keep moving forward. Here, I’ll leave you with a quote from
another one of our heroes, Sylvester Stallone:
“You,
me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you
hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward….”
PS: I love you.
