My Aunt Sharon died on January 1, 2018.

The priest who officiated at her mass looked over the attendees and said, “I have a surprise for you.  Each and every one of you is going to die someday.  Even I, a priest, who officiates over many of these services, sometimes has a difficult time grasping this idea.”

For some reason, this made me feel better.  It is, of course, a reminder to live each day as fully as you can.  But I tend to forget that all the time.

Soon after the funeral, I went back to my old habits.

I still get mad at my husband and at the dogs.

It’s difficult for me to leave my bed unmade to go do something fun.

I can’t stand to not wash the dog’s pee off the back patio, immediately, when she can’t seem to make it all the way to the backyard — all of ten feet away from the back door.

It takes me a week to work up to going through the papers on my desk, random notes, mail.  I tell myself it’s because I don’t really have an office.  I’m crammed in a corner of my bedroom.  Shouldn’t stop me from writing. Why don’t I just leave the house if I’m not going to clean up or write anyway? Take a hike?

I don’t write the stories floating around in my head.  I recently heard a writer being interviewed who said you should write down any idea you have about a subject.  Work out the details later.

Should I write them in my phone?  Should I keep a notebook in my purse?  What should I do if  I’m driving, and I want to plot the murder of the guy who just sped past me with a flip of his finger?

I shouldn’t put that in writing.

I seem to be wandering here, but you get the idea.  “Life is short, and then you die” is such an accurate quote.

I’ll call Aunt Sharon’s husband, my Uncle Jim, today.  I don’t want to end up at his funeral wishing I’d called him the minute I thought of him — not trying to figure out what a good time is to call him.

See how I ignored the fact that Uncle Jim might be at MY funeral, wishing he’d called me more often.

Seize the day, people!

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

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