The vibrant woman in the middle of this picture was a work friend of mine named Jackie. She was 63 and had recently retired after a lifetime of human services work. She loved to camp and hike, and had two grown children that she doted on, as well as a husband she had adored for decades. I never heard her say a cross word to anyone. She was always helpful and kind, and even when she was diagnosed with cancer, she kept smiling and walking forward into the unknown with her head held high.
I went to her wake this week. The flowers and the the slideshow of her life were beautiful, and the room was packed. Jackie had an impact on many lives, and she lived her own life joyfully. Jackie didn't have much time to enjoy her retirement. She will never meet her future grandchildren, or travel to some of the exotic places she had planned to see. But she lived the life she had. She loved her family and her friends, and she relished all the small ordinary moments of her life until the very end.
It makes you think when you start burying your friends. I am at that age now, where I attend far more funerals than weddings. There are no guarantees in life. You may work for thirty years and die shortly after your retirement. You may never live to retire in the first place. I think what's important is to live the life you have RIGHT NOW, and do the things that call to your heart. Don't wait to take a trip or start a hobby. Do it now. You may not be able to afford something extravagant, and that's ok. Start small. Buy yourself flowers when you want them. Go out to lunch with your friends. Take a class or take a risk- learn something you always wanted to learn. I made a bucket list when I was close to forty, and some of the things I did were very simple. I learned to play cribbage. I went to Duluth and took pictures in the rose garden. I traveled outside of the country (to Canada) for the first time. I self published my poetry and started writing essays, as well as taking up photography. There are so many little things that can be such joyful experiences.
This year, after having heart symptoms and questioning my own mortality, I bought the new car I had wanted for years. Last week I filled out an adoption application for a local humane society, and plan to look at a litter of puppies from that organization this weekend. I may not live to be 90, but in the meantime, I want to enjoy the companionship of another dog. My previous dog Zena was a loyal and loving friend, and I want to enjoy a relationship like that with another dog that needs a home. Planning for the future is fine, but living in the present is what can give us joy right now, and make our lives meaningful.
I plan to keep learning, and taking small risks. I push myself to talk to some of the people I meet at conferences or out in public, although I am a very shy person in many ways. I've made a point to tell my friends how much they mean to me, to remember their birthdays and ask about their lives, listen to their stories. Sometimes we do things like riding through the countryside on motorcycles or sitting for hours in coffee shops talking. We steal away for a few minutes or a few hours at a time to be playful, to explore, sometimes to just sit quietly with each other and watch the sun set while we sit in an armchair. These are the moments that make life worth living. I want to treasure every second I have with my friends and my family, store up all the memories for the inevitable days when some of them will be gone. Life is like ice cream sitting in the sun. Scoop that bowl up and eat every drop before it melts away. Live your life now.
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