If I had a metaphorical bucket placed on the table in front of me, I’d have nothing to put in it.
Buckets and lists appear in conversation fairly often these days. Perhaps because I’ve become part of that Boomer cohort that is contending with dying parents and now, sick and dying friends. And even though I’ve been fairly conversant with death all my life, with Kevin indulging my fascination with graveyards wherever we travel and the endless funerals I attended as a child, it seems even more pressing as I recognize my dizzying proximity to the edge of that cliff. I was recently reminded again of how close I skirt to that abyss…
I regularly visit a dermatologist to have liquid nitrogen freeze off the pre-cancerous sun damage spots that otherwise refuse to heal. I’ve become used to wearing 45 SPF whether it’s raining or sunny and really thought nothing of the doc’s choice to do an overall body scan. “That one on the top of your left foot looks a little odd, I’m going to send you to my colleague to have it removed.”
Forgive me for being ignorant, but truly, it was the tiniest of irregular moles, but now my foot is wrapped in gauze to cover a short zipper of eight (or nine?) stitches. Whatever the number, it seems the doc dug quite a hole in there and I am suddenly aware of just how much walking I usually do in a day. And what, pray tell, does one do when walking is removed (albeit temporarily) from one’s life?
When we moved my father into the Menno Home, we brought along a few of his pictures, a limited wardrobe picked from the list the Home provided (four shirts! two sweaters! make sure his name is written in each item with indelible ink!) and books that he could no longer see to read.
When Kevin’s grandmother died in Lions Gate extended care, we packed up her entire life into one cardboard box.
With Kathleen’s move into hospice, I asked myself what I would bring if faced with that same choice. I looked hard and long around our apartment and am still thinking about it. Maybe a few photos? A candle? Books? A plant? Things, that aside from the photos, are cheap items and easily acquired.
We spend a lifetime amassing material goods and living a mostly exterior-out-there-in-the-world life. We stride purposefully about the days of our lives. But as time passes the exterior begins to lose some of its lustrous pull. Instead, the interior life becomes richer, deeper, more resonant. I find I have a stronger tendency toward silence, to being alone, for meditation and puttering in our little apartment or my studio, and now apparently, for a helluva lot more sitting while these stitches heal.
I am by no means ready to begin a life in a cave. I look forward to traveling again when life decides to grant me the space to do so. I am still curious, so very curious about the world.
But if I was told tomorrow that my Best Before date was coming up? I know that I would always want more time with friends, with family, with Kevin. In short, I will always want more time to love.
But I can think of nothing that would feel undone. No check list that would make me weep with regrets. No must-see, must-do list that would make my life complete. My life is complete.
No empty bucket dear Liza…
Instead. Every minute I realize how much my cup runneth over.
And for this I am truly thankful.
Amen.
Oh that liquid nitrogen. There’s nothing quite like being told not to move when a needle full of liquid nitrogen is pointed squarely at the blemish that lives on the bridge of your nose — right between your eyes! I feel your pain!
As for the walking, it’s one of those things we take for granted, isn’t it? I hated being grounded when I broke my foot and hope that your recovery is much faster. I know you do, too! In the meantime, I know you’ll make good use of the “down time” — and I look forward to reading all about it!
P.S. If you’re looking for a book recommendation, hit me up on email. I’m on a roll these days.
I remember that too-long ‘grounding’ with your broken foot. This is nothing compared to that! I’m walking pretty good now, though still can’t do much distance without those stitches protesting. They’re in a funny (not ha-ha) spot that makes the stitches feel like they’re being stretched a wee bit far.
The good news is that I’m finally spending more time in my studio and playing, and yes, you’ll be reading all about it soon.
I am definitely looking for some book recommendations. Looking forward to your list.
Lovely post, Colleen. Enjoy the stillness this dormant winter month, get better soon….
Thanks Lesley. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’ve got lots of Christmas lights and candles going and playing cavegirl for the next little while. Moments of silence and also time with the Christmas tunes going full-on 🙂
Yikes, why didn’t he try liquid nitrogen before digging a hole? Sure hope it comes back benign. My doc has also been using liquid nitrogen but the damn things keep coming back. Being immobilized is such a bummer! When I broke my ankle (plate & 10 pins), I was unable to go for a walk for 6 weeks. It was the only time I can recall being really and truely depressed.
You’ve got your head screwed on right with the bucket list: no checklist, no must see, no must do things … just counting your blessings. I, too, have been thinking about my Best Before Date. All we can do is do our best and leave with good memories.
We have a niece your age who has just inherited a small fortune. She has a different bucket list. It includes expensive toys and holidays where she can sit back sipping expensive cocktails, waited on hand and foot, and be treated like a movie star.
Hey Martha. Agreed that all we can do is ‘do our best and leave with good memories’. Hear, hear!
I think your niece is going to find that routine will get old pretty fast. I think I’d be bored out of my brain with that movie star routine (well, maybe a personal trainer would be nice, there IS that). Then again, I’ve never inherited a small fortune…maybe I’d become a martini-swilling imperious princess (or wait, am I too old to be a princess? I think I am).
The liquid nitrogen wasn’t an option on this foot thing, and yes, I’m getting bored with wearing only slippers and it’s only been two days! I think it will heal pretty fast and I should be striding about soon. As for the results; fingers crossed.
Oh Colleen, I’m soooo happy that you’re fine after your latest medical experience… How fortunate we are to have these things taken care of, and the quality and length of our lives extended so that we can enjoy those things you’ve mentioned. Have been having the same thoughts as you about the important “things” in my life (because I’m getting so bloody old!) and have come to many of the same conclusions. Your positive attitude is amazing and I can hardly wait til your next epistle appears. Keep it up girl…you’re great!!
Dear Fellow Oldie aka Sophie 🙂
Thank you for being such a faithful reader. It’s comforting to be in such good company as we reach these same conclusions.
I love too, that I’m able to imagine you in your kitchen at that wonderful wooden table or maybe reading a book in that light-filled living room. I continue to be amazed that we can be having this cyber-connected conversation with all the vast space that exists between our countries of Finland and Canada. What a world…