I’ve lived the first 30 or so years feeling rather immortal in a naive sort of way.
Some people might die but not me.
Then my mom died.
That wasn’t supposed to happen; maybe to others, but not me.
Then a series of friends departed in their own unique ways;
Some in an instant, others slowly,
Some fought it to the end, some came to terms with it.
Now I spent a week with my chipper though opinionated father of 91.
He’s fine, but not so fine as the last visit 9 months ago.
Walking slower, forgetting stuff, the usual.
I see the beginnings of the descent into the underworld. I hate to admit it. I mention it to my brother. We both shake our heads, pause and then talk about the next important thing.
I acknowledge this arc to the finality. I’ve experienced it enough to know it happens. And now I’m aware of my own descent into the underworld with Dad’s journey: Facing my mortality.
It’s not something I’m totally comfortable with yet, but I’m getting there.
My dad will die, just like my mom.
I will die, just like him.
There is no magic pill, not affirmation or guru to save me.
I surrender to that still place and find my home in it.
Not as hard as I thought, once I stop running.
You’re gonna die, I’m breaking the news to you gently.
Before it’s too late, do what you came for.
So you have no regrets when the arc is complete.
What you waiting for?
It’s a hard pill to swallow, but I’ve found a lot of life in my embracing death.
It is the great leveler, the last statement in a long argument.
The truth is we come in naked, we leave naked.
I imagine all we take with us is our deepening into love.
Go live as if there is no tomorrow, cause there isn’t.