As I sat in my minivan and ate my lunchtime taco, I was struck with a rather paralyzing thought. I’m going to die…and then what? This world will no longer be mine to live in. These people will no longer be mine to hold. These things and times will no longer be mine to cherish and enjoy. And then what?
Empty, sad body locked away in a pine box to be eaten away at by bugs and other ground dwelling creatures?
And if so, where will my soul be?
Will I know it’s my soul?
Will I still be conscious of where I am and who is around me?
Will I be with people I know?
Or does it depend completely on how good of a person I was?
Do my actions alter my final destination daily?
I was good today, so if I died I would surely go somewhere good, but yesterday I was horrible, so if I had died I would surely have gone someplace bad. Is that how it works?
How will I know?
Should I be afraid?
I am afraid of so many things, death being close to the top of the list, that although this thought process paralyzes my mind, my body still soldiers on through life. And then I am left with a day that wasn’t lived at all because my mind was stuck running in circles trying to round up the fear instead of focusing on the things that I will surely miss when I am gone.
Another day passed. How many of those have I not actually lived?
Does that make sense? I am alive and yet there are days where I did not live. Did not thrive and experience all that was set before me. Days where I let the fear of the after death (or the fear of failure to complete, or mile-long to do lists that cripple my ability to do anything, or just plain lazy assedness) stop me from actually living. I’m not talking about living life to it’s fullest or experiencing everything just to have tried it. I am talking about actually living. There are days that I have been a zombie…moving but not actually alive. And what’s the point in living if you are actually dead?
When I began writing this blog, it was partially to remind myself to enjoy the little things in my life so that I wasn’t just zombie walking through my days. I wanted to keep my eyes wide open to see what was set out before me. I wanted to appreciate the smallest of things in my life but even this blog can’t make me remember every single day. I get so tied up in the immensity of the bigger things that the little things just slip unnoticed from my day and I find myself living yet another day without actually living.
And then someone comes along and reminds me.
Reminds me that the ring on my finger signifies that someone loves me and waits to see me every night when I get home…and I should remember to cherish that.
Reminds me that I am a good mom and the smallest of things (like being a Teddy Bear doctor) will stay with my babies forever.
Reminds me that friendships are not always constant but that they can endure if we remember to appreciate them.
Reminds me that my family is going to be there for me no matter what—even if what I need is in the form of hard labor.
So, in an effort to have lived this day instead of zombie walking through it, I want to thank all of the “someones” that have reminded me to live.