This year, two friends and my mother-in-law passed away, ironically enough, not because of COVID. My close friend from college had a heart attack and died alone. Cancer claimed the body of the mom of my daughter’s best friend. My mother-in-law died a month before her 93rd birthday.
There’s nothing original to say about death. Even how I felt (the sadness and regret, the pain in my chest, the tears) isn’t unique.
But when death comes close, it is always a reminder to live more fully and love more fiercely.
To make time even if scheduling is difficult and initial conversations are awkward.
To listen to stories even if they’ve been told over and over again.
To leave the safety of your house and explore parts of your city (and yourself) that have gone dusty and rusty from lack of use.
To articulate a dream and say no to everything that takes you away from it.
To be present and notice—the way the shadows fall across your room at dusk, the new leaf unfurling on your house plant, the profusion of flowers during a neighborhood walk, the change in temperature, yes, even in this tropical country.
To stand up for what you believe is right and true.
To get off your phone and create something beautiful.
To open your hearts and hands and give generously with no promise of reward or redemption.
If your heart is tender today, remembering those whose laughter you will never hear again, whose dishes you will never again try, those you will never again share a cocktail with, I am sending it a tiny embrace, a tiny touch to remind you to grieve and to honor their lives by fully living yours.
Mary Oliver wrote:
“it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.”
May we remember that this November.
This is an excerpt from my newsletter called Joyful Little Note. To subscribe, click here.
