I am helping a woman publish her husband’s journal entries that were written in the 10 months after his diagnosis with lung cancer. It’s extremely wise and accessible. He practices mindfulness and reflects on his personal struggles and the spiritual aspects of his journey toward death, but he also spends a lot of time enjoying lobster rolls and rooting for the Sox. I have decided this may be a good time to pick my own pen back up and take a closer look at my own baggage. Here’s what I’ve written today.
I am working on Gerry’s journal and I know one thing he does not: he only has one month to live. His goal is to have another Thanksgiving. But he won’t.
Having said that, I realize that by practicing mindfulness, he’s managed to make at least part of every day a thanks-giving. He is losing physically, but gaining spiritually.
This has been hard for me to work on. He is dying—but aren’t we all? The moment of birth, the beginning, is the start of the walk toward the ending. How do you focus on one and not the other? Since Marie’s death, I have focused too much on the latter—even now anticipating the decline of Mom and Dad when they are still very much alive. Right now they have a yard full of branches because they had the trees trimmed behind the house so Dad can work on the garage. He is nearly 83. And so I think, “What for?” But I am the only one thinking that way; they are just moving on with their lives—investing in each day. How can I obtain that line of thinking for myself?
