One year ago my brother and I sat with my mom at her last appointment with her oncologist. We were told she had about two months to live. It is uncanny how accurate they can be. I wanted to ask, “Hey doc, how long do I have?” Though, maybe I would not want the answer to that. On the other hand, what would you do if you were told that you had two months to live?
I remember sitting across from my mom when the words, “Two months” came out of the doctor’s mouth. I won’t say I was in disbelief because I knew that one day the time would come where we’d be given a timeframe that was not years, but months, or even weeks. My eyes welled up in tears and my mom reached for me, rolling herself to her youngest from the wheelchair that held her tired body. I think back to that very moment. My mom was just told that she had two months to live and the first thing she did was comfort her son. That’s how a mother’s love should be but it still astonishes me how much I was loved. I sat with my wife in a cafe yesterday and told her, “My mom’s love saved my life.”
After the initial shock of hearing “Two months” passed, (though it never truly passes because when someone you love is told that their time is very limited, it sticks like an arrow to the heart), I asked my mom, “What do you want to do in the time you have left?” My mom immediately listed a few things: be with my family, paint, write, and take a few drives in the country. That’s when I realized that many times our wants when we are dying are the same as our wants for when we are living. It comes back to the simple things that make us happy. The things that bring us joy. My mom didn’t say she wanted a trip somewhere, though her body could not take that, or that she wanted a fancy meal or anything out of the ordinary. It was keeping what and who she loved close.
The fact is, my mom told me she thought she could beat the two month prognosis she was given. I did not deny this but I knew that her oncologist, a very good and compassionate doctor, would not tell her two months unless it was the reality. During the two months, she did what I believe she needed to. She communicated with her family, making sure that we were all okay. She told us stories like she always had, and always, always told us how much she loved us. I am sure she told the others things that were individual to them. To me she said, “Keep writing and publishing your books. Keep speaking about mental health. People need to hear from you. I think it helps them.” Other times she would say, “You and Karen will continue to have a wonderful life together. I am so happy for you both.” I would catch her looking at me and she would say, “I like it when you shave your head. It reminds me of my daddy.” Then, it would hit her that she would soon be gone and she would cry and say, “I’m going to miss you. This is going to be hard, honey.” The words I cherish most are when she would look at me and say, “You were a good son. I am proud of the man you have become.”
I ask again, if you were told you had two months to live, what would you do? Would it be anything different than you are doing now? Would you have regrets? Would you reach out to people that you have not spoken to in a while and tell them what they once meant to you? Would you tell the people that you care for how much you love them? Would you want to go to that one place in the world that you always wanted to see? Would you eat your favorite foods? Would you make love? Would you give some advice and share your knowledge on living and dying to the people you are leaving behind? Would you mend old wounds, the emotional kind that have never healed? Would you finally let go of what you cannot control and focus on what you can?
My question is this, why wait? Life is meant to be lived, not sedentary, stalled like an old broken down car. For me, I set out long ago to experience life, the good and bad. When I have suffered, I looked at it as a challenge, something I needed to see if I could make it through. The times of joy, and there have been many, I have been mindful, swallowing it all deep in my belly and soul. I want to see the world, hear foreign languages in places where my accent stands out, climb more mountains, and stare silently at the ocean waves crashing against the shore. I want to walk where bears have walked and keep one eye open for mountain lions. There are wonderful poems and novels to read, and I want to contribute my own verse among those. I want to live a life of exhausted laughter and whenever that time comes, my time comes to an end, I want my wife to know that she was loved deeply. I say again, why wait? Why wait to do the things you want to do? To say the things that need to be said? None of us know when our time is up. We do not know when we will be given a timeframe to work within to wrap up the lives we have lived. The time for living is now. Carpe Diem!
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