Here is the test to find whether your mission on earth is finished. If you’re alive, it isn’t. ~Richard Bach
If you happen to run into me today, please give a kiss and a hug and congratulate me on not being dead yet.
It’s the 17th of May again, an anniversary I have, for 11 years, marked by not being dead. It was emergency bypass surgery that made the still alive thing keep happening, a holiday adventure in Singapore I’m not likely to forget, and although not high on the fun-and-games factor, it was one of the best trips I’ve ever made.
Being alive, I keep writing, and usually on the 17th of May I jot down pondererings on aspects of life I tend to take for granted much of the rest of the days I walk and breathe and watch a sunrise.
On the 16th of May, 1999, I was abruptly informed that I was somewhere between one and thirty days of a fatal heart attack … news that almost caused one right there and then. By the 17th I’d been sliced and diced and given a new lease, and although open-ended and loaded with get-out clauses for the lessor, I’m still not complaining.
Had I died back then I would have missed a lot. Some of it total shit, for sure, as at that time I was a reasonably content woman and had not buried any child of mine. I could have predicted little that has happened since, if anything, but I guess that’s a good thing.
Of course, Sam and Cj are bonuses beyond belief, and although they would have come into the world without me since I had nothing to do with their creation, missing out on being their mother would have been a real gyp.
I’d like to think that the end of me would have taken some residual good stuff with it; there would be a bit less music and much fewer words around, and maybe … just maybe … I’ve done some good for someone somewhere over these years of gravy that pay toward my price of admission.
Checking off another year prompts more than reflection, though, as each 17th of May I wonder about the 364 days until the next one and what they might bring. Sorry to say I don’t do this with as much joy and wonder as I should, but rather with no little fear that I might not be able to pull off another whole year.
That low-hanging sword serves to remind me life is a short option under any circumstance, and although I have little fear of being dead I can be terrified of potential alternatives.
This is the time of year I want to grab every bit of life I can by the collar, pull it close and squeeze as much out of it as I can. My patience grows thin now … not that it’s ever very thick … and a welling sense of panic creeps over me that too much is passing too quickly.
It’s not a case of feeling compelled to climb Everest or fling myself out of airplanes. No. My bucket list is pretty damned simple.
Item number one for the last some years was having all four of my kids under the same roof with me at the same time. That is no longer possible, but I do hope those of us still around share space someday.
I would like to feel safe and be happy for as long a time as possible, as that would be a whole new experience that would be nice to have for a while … just to check it out.
Watching mountain gorillas and seeing Venice … not at the same time, thankyouverymuch … are about as close to conventional if-I-can-before-I-croak dreams.
A sense of settled with some idea of what just might happen over the next month or two or six would be nice, too.
Perhaps all that will happen … maybe this year, even. Perhaps not. The point is, however, I am still along for the ride, and good, bad or indifferent, I’m bloody grateful to be here.
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
May 17th is a marker for me too, Sandra… life popped out of me in 1996 in the form of a daughter. She came early, easy and has altered my existence forever.
She…and my son.. shifted my entire perspective of life as i knew it and strengthened my ability to ride out any storms, no matter how insurmountable…
Measuring life with coffee spoons is wonderful advise, thank you T.S. Elliot. Breaking it down to mere seconds allows for better awareness of every breath and heartbeat it takes to get through the day.
Life is a “short option”… and the more focus on the “simpler” for the bucket list, the easier it is to feel happiness…in the mere “breath” of it all…
we breath… ahhhhhh.
xxoo Robin
My niece is a May 17th birthday girl, too!
Breathing is good.
I’m grateful you survived. My own life would have been less had I not had the opportunity to meet you, argue with you and call you friend. I’m so glad you’re here!! I love you 🙂
Oh, Lisa! What I would have missed had I never had you in my life! You’re the ammo-toting, hard-ass editor I always longed for!
I love you, too, Girl!
sending many hugs and kisses, dear friend! Happy Not Dead Day! you can count my life as one that has been enriched by your continued pondering. keep it up!
Thanks so much, Amy, and I’m taking those hugs and kisses and running with them!
Some of it total shit, for sure…
I think we can say that about some aspect of every day. You would have left a little less poetry in the world also. Sending encouragement your way to launch you into that next 364
Michele
Thanks for the launch, Michele!
May 17th is a double anniversary for me, though the reason for both are just memories. It is my older brother Bill’s birthday, who passed last September. Life was flowing along as it does when one morning I got a message from my brother Michael in Santa Fe that I’d better get down there asap. I had been aware that his he had health problems, but cancer hadn’t even been mentioned. He hung on for a week before his son Brian concluded that there was nothing else that could be done. I held his hand as I watched the life pass out of him. I realize that each of us has our date with destiny and that Bill, nickname “Wild Bill” in his teens had lived life to it’s full measure. But I miss him.
The second anniversary is that of my marriage, though that ended almost ten years ago and nearly killed me. I fell into a dark place and felt like I was falling to my doom. What pulled me out was the devotion to my children and the love of my friends…that and a good shrink.
These anniversaries are reminders of two lessons that in the day to day grind I find myself needing to relearn perpetually.
Always live life on my terms and never assume tomorrow.
I’m glad we’re all still here.
The news and the surgery sound very frightening, Sandra. So glad you found out in time.
I have a feeling that you’ve done a lot of good for others. My guess is that there are countless people who have been blessed with you in their life.
Your writing has helped me laugh, cry and ponder. Hope you stick around for lots more to come and hope I do too.
Oh, Marianne! You are a ray of sunshine in my morning! Thank you.
Beautiful post. I am missing some parts of the story but will try to catch up. I’m so glad Paul Sunstone led the way to your blog, Sandra. And very happy you’re still here.
Thank you, and I’ve very pleased to have you drop by after visiting Paul’s café.
Blessings my friend, thanks you sharing!Hugs:)
Thanks, D!
~smiles~
😉
Congratulations on Not Being Dead Day! Beautiful post!
Thank you, Todd. Hope all’s good with you these days.
Thanks. Things are changing for me, but I’m thinking it’s a good thing right now.
Keep in Rockin’!
Glad to hear it, Todd.
Coming up on another anniversary I can’t quite figure out how to commemorate this year. Some things just don’t get easier with time …
A happy new birthday to you. I have not forgotten the letter promise but I’ve not felt the inspiration to write something inspiring, insightful witty or not just a reporting of my current events. This post has given me that inspiration. Thanks.
I look forward to seeing that, then, Bill.
I’m a little behind the 8 ball, Sandra, my apologies. I totally understand your feelings, given the circumstances.
I’m glad you are still with us to write, provike, entertain and mystify!
Thank you, Robyn. Hope that ball gets out of your way soon …
I don’t know why, but your post leaves me at a loss for words. I keep thinking, “That was a close one”, as if that’s not obvious.
I feel relieved I met you, if that makes any sense.
Why, thank you, Paul. Same here …