Friday, October 24, 2014

Fasten Your Seatbelts. It's Going to Be a Bumpy Ride.



This is something that I've been thinking about lately. It's not easy to write. And it might not be easy to read.

The Good News: Yes, I'm a mother fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja! (patent pending)  And I try to live up to that name every day.

But The Bad News: some times I fall short. And I cry. And I think about the other outcome. The one where the ninja doesn't win. I try to push the thoughts out of my head, as if it were like Voldemort, and if I don't speak its name, it has no power.  But we all know how that strategy worked out. Okay, those of us who are Harry Potter geeks know how that turned out.

If you're not, you're missing out. And don't google it, either, you cheater. You need to read all the books. No, not just watch the movies. Damn, you are a cheater!

Spoiler alert: Voldemort dies. And Harry Potter is a mother fuckin' Evil Wizard Fighting Ninja! (apologies to J.K. Rowling. I might have taken some liberties.)

But I digress. What were we talking about? Ah, yes. Death.

So, mainly what I've been thinking about - besides the obvious, "I don't want to die now, thank you very much."  - is how much more I have to left to say to my children. I mean, what do I want to my "final words" to be and when should I say them?

I believe strongly in the power of positive thinking, and planning what I'm going to say on my death bed sounds very counter intuitive. Not to mention that the thought of it makes me choke with paralyzing sadness and dread.

Yesterday, I woke up from a horrible dream. In it, my team of doctors were recommending that Steven and the kids read a book on "Grief and Mourning".  I couldn't shake it, and I walked around the house in a kind of depressed stupor for the better part of the morning. And I thought a lot about What I Want to Say to My Children.

Then I had a clarifying moment - one in which the whole thing was reframed.
Why the hell would you wait until you are on your death bed to tell your children (or anyone!) anything significant that you really wanted them to know??? It seems like you should do the exact opposite, no?

So, I went on thesaurus.com (yes, really. My kids can vouch for this - I am that big of a nerd.) and searched for the opposite of "death bed". Death is obvious. Life. But what is the opposite of "bed". Turns out, there are no antonyms for bed. At least not that I could find. I ended googling that shit and went to a bunch of websites with no luck, so it must be true. (P.S. If you come up with anything, please post it in the comments section!)

So, what do I want my children to know on my Life Anti-Bed?
I love you. I love you. I love you. <-- You can never say this enough.
I want for you the same kind of love that I have with your father. You don't have to call each other "Schmoopy" , but I want you to have the deep, solid love that I've experienced the past 25 years.The kind of love that makes you feel a little flip in your stomach when he looks you in the eyes and says, "I love you. No, I mean, I really love you." The kind of love that makes you feel safe just to know that he's there. I know April has already found it, and that makes me so happy! (Thank you, Coffey!) Of course, You don't have to get married to feel that, but I want all my children to have the opportunity to get married.  Love is love is love.
I have often said, "Love doesn't hurt. If it hurts, it's not love." What I mean by that is that the person you love shouldn't be hurting you, physically or emotionally, intentionally or thoughtlessly. If he/she is - cut your losses and move on. And if you are doing it to someone else, knock it off.
Live life without fear. Grab as many opportunities to experience new things and meet new peoples as you can. Say, "Yes!" (Unless someone offers to sell you a velociraptor. because they're extinct, so they're probably ripping you off.)

Mostly, though, at this point, I just want to say how proud of them, individually and as a group. Each of them has their own special gifts and strengths. I am awe of them. And together, they are the most beautiful team - fiercely loyal and protective, and so much love, love, love!

After all that blathering, I just realized that I have said all those things to my children already ...not just once, but multiple times. I didn't just say it, but I have LIVED it (except the velociraptor thing). And isn't that more meaningful in the long run?

The best thing that I can do for them now is once again lead by example. To be a mother fuckin' Cancer Fighting Ninja! And stare Voldemort...I mean Death... in the face and say, "Hiya!" as I give it a karate kick in the balls.

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