Dear loves,
This weekend I talked about death with a dear friend. And I spoke honestly. Honestly, in that, I’ve only just started sharing the actual thoughts in my mind. I have spent decades walking gingerly, saying just the right things that would keep people comfortable. In other words, lying.
She spoke about her worry about dying and how it would impact her children. “It will ruin their life.”
“I don’t believe that it will.”
The thing is, I don’t believe anyone’s death will ruin another person’s life.
Take my sister and me. Our father died when we were 2 and 5, respectively. If you were to meet us today you’d find two very optimistic, joy-filled, life-affirming people, raising children the same way.
And the memories I have of my dad – likely 44% accurate because we were so young, and our memories are mostly painted by stories our mother and relatives have told us – are overwhelmingly wonderful.
I remember that he swam a mile every day over lunch, that he hiked and biked (with us in tow) most weekends, that he and our mom were high school sweethearts and he loved his daughters so very much.
That has been his legacy, and likely was always supposed to be his legacy. Nothing more. And yet complete.
Though the first years after he died were hard, there have been far more that have been easy. And the hard years have repeatedly led us to grow: mentally, physically, spiritually, and in relationship with others.
All around us are examples of people for whom death didn’t ruin their lives.
If we teach our children that death will ruin their lives, if we teach them that they aren’t strong enough to survive without us, what will happen when the inevitable occurs?
And if we live in constant fear of dying, fear grounded in how it will impact others, are we really living?
Instead, can we live confidently, pouring into others every day and trusting deeply that that will be enough to sustain us all?
with great love for your life,
kristin