What will you do today so tomorrow becomes the legacy you wanted to leave? ~Bill Jensen
As I write this week's column, my adult children are gathered in central Massachusetts for the funeral of my former husband's sister, their beloved aunt Laurie. One of my daughters and her husband have flown up from Florida. My son and his partner arrived yesterday from Missouri, and my oldest daughter, her husband, and three kids drove up from Rhode Island this morning. I'm home watching the rain pelt down, thinking about the requiem Mass, graveside service, and the bread family and friends will break later. At 61 years, gone too soon, is a woefully inadequate expression.
I'm on the outside looking in and thinking about the circle of life and death. Laurie and Gary married young and stayed that way for 45 years. Their teen marriage survived the test of time. They were rooted in the same community they were born into and there they remained to raise their own family of two boys and one girl.
Today, I honor her commitment to her husband, family, and community.
Fifteen years ago, I made a decision to address the alcoholism that had taken my heart hostage and was indeed pointing me toward an early grave. As a result of my recovery, each day intoxicates me, and I want more. I've made peace with the past, broken hearts, and lost opportunities.
When my time comes, raise a glass, lift up your voices, and say simply, "Regrets, she had a few, but then again, too few to mention."Let’s all shift our gaze, and in the words of late musician Wayne Shorter, think of human death as a “time to go get a new body and come back to continue on this immense journey into the unknown.”
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