Day 15 :: Write those love letters now
"My last 37 days. … First thought: I’d write a love letter to everyone in my life, thanking them for the gifts of themselves, for their touches of kindness, mercy, hilarity, generosity, loving touch …I’d get myself to an ocean and soak up its rhythms until they’re washed through my entire being … then I’d keep that ebb and flow uppermost in my consciousness so that when my dying time comes, that rhythm would guide my passage …
I’d give myself a certain small time in which to rant and flail against the Infinite which is coming soon to claim me …
I’d make love with my husband in every way possible — that means so many things, including drinking up his eyes, snuffling the center of his chest (which is my favourite scent in the world), massaging his legs and feet in the ways that make him purr, writing up a looong list of all the ways we’ve loved one another and making sure he has that list by him for the rest of his life … and, of course, we’d take each other to bed and ravish each other with all the passion and presence we can … I can’t imagine a sweeter knowledge attending my dying: that of another person who has loved me with his full being, who has mingled with my essence, been in and of me, as I have been with him …
I’d nuzzle and stroke and bunt and caress my three cats constantly (which I do anyway) …
I don’t think I’d do a whole lot differently — my life is very pared-down as it is; I would just do a lot more loving, with a lot more gratitude, with every passing moment.
I’d finally let myself fall in love with my own body — no reservations or judgments. I’d lie in my bath night after night with candles, the loveliest oils and potions that I can find, and my own voice, thanking every aspect of my marvelous somatic home.
I’d eat favourite meals — including my own macaroni and cheese … and I’d finally write down the recipe for my husband :-D
I’d laugh outrageously, sob myself senseless, and converse with anyone who wants to speculate with me about what death might be …
I’d listen to my favourite music; I’d compose a celebration of music, dance, poetry, rememberance for the ones living on. I’d want to make sure that my loved ones have a heck of a party, as well as a loving "container" in which to mourn …
I’d cuddle up with everyone I love who I could see in that last 37 days, look them in the eye, and say Thank you for your life …
I’d name and think reverently about all my ancestors — those who have already died … I would pray that they touch me somehow, and guide me towards my own death …
I’d weep a lot, I know — as I weep right now, as I write — to understand that this person … that place … this embrace … that sight of beauty … will be my last. I’ll have my moments in which I "rage against the dying of the light" — and I will know that my vital energy will dissipate and help to spark life elsewhere. I realized this while being with my mother as she died. I felt her lifeforce gather itself above her solar plexus, moments before she breathed her last … it felt to my hands like a spinning ball of fire — pure energy — and like a rocket, still tethered to its launch pad but bucking, roaring its engines, seconds away from release. The force of this élan vital jolted me backward, leaving my mind dumb with awe — and somehow convinced that this essence of my mother’s life would move on.
I’d remind myself of this, while knowing that I don’t know what happens to the ineffable-in-us after we die …
I’d arrange to die in a beautiful bed, surrounded by exquisite music and light, a few beloveds who I know can quietly sit with a dying person … I’d want loving hands on my body throughout the process … I’d want to be cooed to, murmured to, sung to, breathed with, and have at least one of my cats lying on my chest, purring …"
-Jaliya
A copy of Life is a Verb is on its way to Ontario, Canada, to thank Jaliya for this gorgeous contribution. There is so much to savor here. One immediate action step? Write those love letters now.
If you’d like to share your answer to the question, "What would I be doing today if I only had 37 days to live?", email it to me with a photo and your address. The authors whose essays are posted before the publication date of the book (Sept 2) will receive a signed copy of Life is a Verb in the mail.
