I find myself in shock every time I hear of someone I know, someone my age, passing away. Death doesn’t feel like something someone my age has to consider. I feel saddened and angry, as though they have been robbed of some of the best years of their lives. Every time I see an obituary for someone I once knew, I find myself wondering if they were happy with the life they lived. I wonder if they would have had regrets or had wishes of a different life. I wonder about the void they are leaving in this world. I wonder about the people they leave behind and what those people would say about them.
It always leaves me thinking about my own mortality. Maybe it’s because I’m approaching a big number birthday or maybe it’s because it forces me to acknowledge how short this life really is but sometimes I find myself wondering what my own obituary might read.
What do I want to be remembered for?
It has nothing to do with the house I live in; neither how big it is nor how clean it is. It has nothing to do with the car I drive or what I do to pay my bills.
How I want to be remembered has everything to do with who I am as a person and the impact I have on those around me.
I want to be remembered for my passion. I have spent a good portion of my life trying to hide my passion. Afraid of being “too much”, I consciously tried to downplay how I felt about things. When you feel things deeply this is a hard thing to hide. When I hear of an injustice I speak up. I laugh loudly and I love fiercely. I cry easily and I’m quick to anger. I’ve come to an inner peace where I’m not afraid to show emotion. I’m no longer afraid of being too much because this is who I am.
Being a good mother or wife is not necessarily how I want to be remembered but rather it known that I tried, with everything that I am I tried. I will never be the perfect mother or the perfect wife or friend but I will always strive to do my best. Even when I fall and I break and I fail miserably I will continue to try. I don’t hide that I struggle. I don’t hide the fact that sometimes I fear that not only am I not a perfect mother but I fear that I am failing terribly. There are moments when I sit, defeated on the floor wondering why I was chosen to be a mother and I’m ok if the whole world knows this but what I hope will stick in the minds of those I leave behind is that I always got back up again and that I gave it my all each and every time.
I want to be known for my loyalty. I hope that everyone close to me remembers that I always had their back. I will love you and support you. When you’re in my circle I will cheer on your successes and I will be there to help you get back up when you fall but not before sitting with you on the floor until you’re ready.
Hopefully my obituary will say that I lived my life to the fullest. I’ve been known to hold myself back out of fear but the older I get the less I hold back. If middle age means being more comfortable living the life that you are meant to live then bring on middle age. I want to eat the cake, spend rainy afternoons cuddled up in bed reading and take long evening walks with my family. I want to travel and watch the sunset. I want to dance in the kitchen with my husband, with my children. I want to laugh until I can’t breathe.
I hope that when I die, I’m known for living my life to the fullest.
Hopefully, I have many more years ahead of me. Years filled with celebrations and making memories. Years where I get to be the best that I can be. Years of living out my passions, of falling and getting back up again and then falling again. This is the only life that I have to live and I’m going to own it.
Hopefully, years from now, when I’m old and grey, when I have grandchildren who have children, hopefully when the time comes that’s what someone will write about me when I pass away. In big bold letters my obituary will say “She owned her life and wasn’t afraid to live it”.
