Day 22 :: Tell them

From Roy Mullins in Texas comes this contribution to our understanding of mortality, those messages we must pass along:

“What an overwhelming sense of urgency, incompleteness and enormity of unfinished business crashes about one at the mere inkling of ’37 days.’ But then, after the panic passes, the sense of peace at knowing mortality and of having the excuse, the reason, the imperative to commence, immediately, RIGHT NOW, the living of a life worthy of its contemplation brings an abating and a focus.

A few years ago, shortly after both my parents died over a two and a half year period, I penned the following. Imagine my delight when I ran across your work and found an understanding of the feelings I knew when I wrote:

MORTALITY

Suddenly, as if in a gust of cold, icy, breath-stealing wind, mortality entered my universe. Oddly, it came not as a threat, but as a fact, a simple, real, undeniable fact. It made me feel an urgency, like a need to urinate, physical, undeniable, elemental and eclipsing any conscious thoughts, or silly concepts of ‘self’ control, or any illusion of any control for that matter. It felt like GOD had tapped me on the shoulder, not angry or spiteful, just a loving reminder, a word to the wise, and a clue for the clueless.

I don’t know what the acknowledgment of mortality requires of you, but I will tell my wife how much I love her and how much I appreciate all that she has done for me and with me and how much I appreciate her forbearance, her enormous love that I have squandered and taken for granted. I have three sons, a daughter, four grandsons and four granddaughters who know nothing about me and I will tell them things, ways to avoid breaking the hearts of those they love, that money is nothing but a tool, that family is the most important thing on the planet and that love is more valuable than anything they will ever own. I will tell them that when the friend or family member is gone, that the emptiness left behind can never be filled. I will also tell them they will not for a while yet know what it is that I am talking about.”

Roy’s description of mortality as a physical urgency, an elemental reality, moved me; I recognized the truth in it for me. His 37 days appears to be a mission of telling, of passing on the messages he needs to impart to others. I was touched that he included me in the telling, with this note, a message that reached me on one of those days—like we all have—when I was feeling unsure, insignificant:

“Patti, I occasionally wonder if you have any idea how many lives you touch. I wonder if you realize that in addition to all those who write to let you know, there are countless others like myself who simply read and ponder and learn, and fail to let you know how important what you do is. I apologize for waiting so long to say THANK YOU. Your work changes lives. It is important. It is worthy.”

Roy, my deepest thanks. For all of us who have been touched or changed or moved by someone’s work in the world—let’s pledge to let them know.

A copy of Life is a Verb will soon be on its way to Roy, with my thanks. If you’d like to answer the question, "What would I be doing today  if I only had 37 days to live?", email your answer to me. If yours is one of those posted in this countdown to the official publication date of my new book, you’ll receive a signed copy of Life is a Verb!)

(The photo, from Roy: “A sunset on the Brazos River near Soda Springs in the Littlefield Bend of the Brazos River. I think most of those conversations I referenced should take place there. Most of the difficult things to explain in life would be aided by the metaphoric flow of that river.”)