Dear Readers,
Those of you who follow me may recall that I was getting ready to move this past summer. Well, I did that, and am almost settled, nearly six months later. (Hence the writing hiatus. My apologies.)
I presume that this will be the last time that I will move in my lifetime. Realizing that gave me pause. How often in life do we think about doing things for the last time? I think we are typically more aware of, and inclined to think about, doing things for the first time—at least, that is true for me.
Needless to say, it created an existential upheaval in my life, and I think that contributed to my unwillingness (or inability) to write. That was far from the only reason; after all, I was busy “setting up house” (as I am wont to say) in my new space. For the last time.
There I go again!
Believe me, I am not a doomsayer. Despite my spiritual and philosophical bent, I am also pragmatic in how I conduct my human life. And these days, I tend to think (a lot) in terms of planning for, and living out, the last chapter of my life.
This manifests in myriad ways, from what objects and people I will invite into my physical space, to how to utilize my time and energy, to what I will bequeath to my children and grandchildren.
These issues came up repeatedly as I prepared my belongings to be moved. I calculate now that I donated (or, when not possible, disposed of) nearly half of what I owned.
It is an amazing experience to recognize one’s mortality.
It is even more eye-opening to need to apply it to daily life.
For instance: as I went through my possessions, trying to decide whether to let something go or stay (i.e., be moved), I would not only consider whether I would have want or need of said item in my new home, but also, if it might be appreciated beyond my lifetime. Would my darling self-proclaimed “fashionista” of a granddaughter appreciate some of my fine jewelry, or should I give it up now, to be sold, consigned or donated? Would she want to wear the strands of pearls, some of which had already been bequeathed to me, from my previous generations?
I still have them, just in case.
I realize now that I thought of the future, after my lifetime, almost as much as I did my own life’s conclusion, as I moved this time. That is new and unique for me.
So, here I am, (typically) pondering that.
I also considered other things, tangible things, from a different perspective this time.
For example: I now consider, more than ever, if physical items will bring joy to my current life before I add them. I did this before, but not quite as much as now (last chance, you know). This includes seemingly little things, like lamp finials. I love them, but not until I decided that the original white lampshade on one of my old lamps was too bland and that I needed to change it to a more decorative one, did the issue ever come up! Now, I found myself checking every lamp I own to see if it has the proper finial (most of them did—shopping trip sadly aborted).
Also, as Audrey Hepburn famously said, “I love pretty things” so I try to surround myself with them. Whenever I make a decision to do that, I tend to research the heck out of it and inevitably find something new that I love. This time, I discovered William Morris prints. I would wallpaper at least one wall with it if I could, but I settled instead for a Morris-print shower curtain. I am telling myself that, since said shower is the full length of one of the bathroom walls, that I have accomplished my goal. And I can stare at it for as long as I like whilst using the loo…(Britishisms in honor of Mr. Morris’ heritage, as well as half of my own).
So you see, dear friends, being aware of the dwindling number of years one has left to live need not be a sad thing. It can provide the impetus to live those years with as much gusto and joy as one can imagine, afford, and physically manage. My recent (last?) move has taught me that. I realize that I have barely grazed the subject of surrounding ourselves with beautiful, wonderful people—our friends and family—but that will hold for another day.
Until then, live life—beautifully!
Thank you. Appreciate your observations as they are relevant to my own situation. Your last response, months ago, left me sadly in a quandary and, well, perhaps, now, with this latest arrival from you, an opportunity to reconnect. Having outlived two now deceased friends, besides David, of course, I am exploring uncharted chapters myself.
One Yiddish proverb haunts me daily as I try to embrace the opportunities each day brings. As I remember it, “You can only regard yourself as old when your regrets exceed your dreams.”
Considering myself as still a work in progress, it almost seems selfish to seek new adventures as though the world yells at me seemingly to pack it in and I refuse to do that. So, give my regards to Jonathan and trust you find the will to persevere in spite of everything which would inhibit drafting your own next chapter. I am truly sorry whenever my own efforts to celebrate my own truths have impacted you negatively. That was never my desire and prompted my withdrawal and hence my conundrum.
Grace and peace nonetheless. Thank you.
Thank you, Richard. Happy Holidays!
Thank you, Ann, for your reflection on a last move. I find it relevant to Liz and my move from Wisconsin to Colorado in having to give up much of what we had in order to downsize for our monumental relocation. But I don’t look at it as a last move for me, as I am sure I may have one more in my final chapter of life. And then of course, I’ll have to downsize some more. Your reflection has given me some food for thought as I walk into that final chapter, so I appreciate your insights. And in relation to that, I too plan to live my remaining life with “gusto and joy.” Jim
Thank you, Jim!
I always appreciate your thoughtful responses and am glad to know that I might have given you some food for thought. That is always my intention.
It is Thanksgiving Day as I write this, so I hope that you and Liz will have a most blessed one, and one to remember for years to come!
With my sincere gratitude for your new role in my life,
Ann