Death Doesn’t Send Appt. Reminders


Closing in on The One Year Experiment;

less than 2 months to go. I find myself sometimes ‘rushing’ more, to have everything ready.  I’m nesting, as I did in preparation for birthing; now nesting in preparation for the dying.

No Morose

I notice the thoughts and feelings. As I’m on my knees cleaning a rich wood table the thought comes: One day, I won’t be able to do this; and the thought goes, yet leaves a footprint, or maybe just a new neuronal tick.  Jaunting down the stairs my foot catches and my body takes a quick lurch before it rights itself again again. And the thought comes: that could have been a fall that could have changed my way of life, in a hurry;  and the thought goes.   Cleaning up, out, and in.  And the thought comes: Are things ready if I die today? Is the family ready? I’m determined to NOT leave a 1/2 life time accumulation of stuff, let alone any stones un-turned along my path.  Even reviewed and edited my “Advance Hopes”.  You know, those paper-work things intended to inform others of our desires should we no longer be able to speak for ourselves.  Which is why I call them “Advance Hopes” instead of Advance Directives.  One organization (see Resources Page) has a document available called “The Five Wishes”.  A little closer but ‘wishes’ feels too much like what we do when we blow out birthday candles or buy a Lottery ticket – pretty slim chances, in my book.

So I prefer Advance Hopes

Having witnessed too many times when someone’s Advance Directives were not honored due to one snafu or another.  With this in mind, I’ve already told my family that they’re forgiven, in advance, if something goes awry.  Anyway, in addition to the most common things one sees in Advance Hopes I decided to add a few more.  Hey, we’re Hoping Here, Hope High.

  1. I hope that someone will take the time to pluck errant whiskers from my chin; a smooth chin feels soo good; so does some good mouth hygiene.
  2. I hope that no one cuts my hair to make bangs
  3. I hope that someone knows that I  like quiet, and they try to honor that
  4. I hope that no one tries to put food, fluid, or meds, or anything else into my mouth if I don’t want it. As long as we’re on the subject, I do prefer ice cream to pureed stuff.
  5. I hope that there is plenty of good conversation going on, whether I can participate or not.
  6. I hope you know how much I appreciate you all and, most of all, I hope I can be a gracious receiver of your care.


Being pregnant with death, lying in bed waiting for his appointed time he says to his friend: Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I think “maybe this is the time I’m gonna’ get to go” and go to sleep.  When my eyes POP open, as they have every time so far,  I look around to see if anything is different.  Was it a ‘go’ or no-go? Hoping for the ‘go’.  Sympathetically, his bud offers: You know Charlie, I really think that that’s the way you’re gonna’ go.   A low reply: You really think so, eh?  then: Darn Charlie, I’ll bet you that’s the way you’re gonna’ go! How much you want to bet?

Following a delightfully therapeutic chuckle, Charlie reaches over and tosses the quarter. “I might as well pay you now, you’ll probably win anyway.”

We can only hope.

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