January 1st the  A Year to Live experiment officially began. What a wonderful start to a year. Waking a little groggy from activities the night before, my husband and I did our usual morning walk along the ocean with our dog. The sky was bright, the air warm, and the ocean calm as a lone dolphin swam along the shore. None of this is uncommon, and I never take it for granted. I live with a deep sense of gratitude for all that surrounds me. Often Mark and I will say to each other, "Can you believe we live here?"

This day I had a whole new appreciation for it. It came into focus in a new way. Everything felt crisper, brighter, and yet softer. It was as if all of this, the earth, sky, ocean, each other, and life itself are all for my appreciation, my enjoyment. I felt love for everything I could see, hear and feel. I am reminded of the quote by Marcel Proust, "The real voyage of discovery is not in seeking new lands, but in seeing with new eyes."

Speaking of LOVE, I've spent the weeks leading up to this day allowing feelings to flow through me as I think about having A Year to Live. Preparing for this year I've been thinking about the past and present. The love I feel for my family and friends could split me in half. I'm overcome with gratitude for all the experiences I've had  - the joys, sorrows, laughs and challenges. I feel I've lived one of the most privileged lives I could imagine. Reviewing my life and the love I've experienced I feel incredibly full, satisfied, content. I could die without regret.  It may seem that I'm living in deep denial of death, but when I've faced death before  I was deeply grateful for my life and ready to go.

Then on the first day of this experiment things changed. Our dog walk lead to breakfast on the patio at La Grande Orange. While eating, Mark and I talked about the year ahead. It was the first time I'd really thought about my feelings in the future. The tears came. I was touched by a very tender sadness, imagining how it would be to say goodbye to Mark. But beneath the sadness was love. I was sad because I love him so much and saying goodbye would be painful a year from now. Goodbyes to all of my community would be sad because I feel so much love from them and for them. Deep love that will live on longer than me.

Love knows not it's depths until separation

My grandmother died three years ago. Last night I had a dream about her. It wasn't really about her, but she was in it. There was nothing spectacular about the dream. She didn't have any profound message for me from the other side. My family and I were just having a visit with lots of food and lively conversation. In the dream we were all aware that grandma was dead and so having her with us was a real gift. We also knew it wouldn't last. We were each enjoying her so much. When we finished eating I had to leave. I don't know where I had to go, but I know I had to move on. It was so difficult for me to say goodbye because I knew once I did grandma would be gone again.

I woke for a moment, one of those brief interruptions to sleep I sometimes experience between dreams. Tears bedewed my face and pillow. I felt a little sad, but mostly I felt love. My whole body was radiating the deep love I feel for and from my grandma. It was a really sweet sensation. It was as though the love was too big to be contained and therefore leaked out as tears.

I've been having that experience more lately. Unexpected tears of joy and love. I was in Toronto visiting my family, and doing what I do most of the time I'm in Toronto, freezing my arse off in a hockey arena watching my nephews kick some serious hockey butt. In one game my younger nephew, Dana, was knocked to the ground. He stayed down for a while. I would have been more concerned if Dana wasn't prone to a little theatrics. But he was down long enough that when he got up, with the assistance of his coach, everyone in the ring cheered for him as he skated back to the bench. I unexpectedly burst into tears. Maybe I had been a little scared that something was wrong, and was shedding tears of relief. All I knew was that I felt overwhelmed with love, and my body couldn't contain it.

A few days later I was dropping my older nephew off at school. He's in high school now and I keep waiting for the day when it will be totally uncool to be seen with his aunt. Luckily we aren't there yet. I dropped him off right in front of his school and he gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye. No big deal right? So, why did I sob when the school door shut behind him?

The Persian poet, Hafiz, wrote "And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." Perhaps that is what is happening to me. I'm feeling my love so deeply for my grandma because we are separated by life and death, and from my nephews I'm separated by time and thousands of miles. Each year we are apart I feel my love grow stronger.

There are people in your life who will miss you when you are gone. Create a private page to support and comfort them when you sign up for a FREE TRIAL of Bcelebrated.

Courage to Love

I met my love when I was living in a small village in Mexico.  One day the local vet asked me if I would take a dog for the summer. She was returning to the US for several months and needed someone to look after this stray she had been minding. I was reluctant. I had left everything I knew and loved and had moved to this small village to heal. I thought that healing meant just taking care of myself. I had spent most of my life taking care of everything but myself and it was time to focus on me. A dog was something I would need to take care of and I wasn't up for that.

I ended up saying yes and "Gimpy" as they called him, because of a leg injury, was dropped at my door with 20 lbs of dog food the very next day.  I wish I could tell you it was love at first sight but it wasn't. He was shaggy and scrawny. He had fleas and worms. He was lethargic and spent most of his days looking for the coolest tiles in the house to lay his head.  I accepted him and knew I would take good care of him, but I also knew he was going back to Pamela as soon as she returned to Yelapa. I didn't need the hassle of  dog in my life.  

There was no doubt he was smart, but not smart enough to fawn all over me. I was, after all, his meal ticket. He didn't seem to care. He did what he pleased when he pleased. I was somewhat incidental to him. Most of the Mexican dogs will do backflips if you show them some attention, learn to scrub your floor if you give them some food.

A day after Gimpy became "mine" I felt something stir.  My heart was opening and I was giving it freely to this dog. I bathed him and gave him flea treatments. I spent 1/2 hour every morning massaging his joints, and a 1/2 hour brushing him every night. The more I did for him the more I loved him. I changed his name to "Guapo", which means handsome, because the more I loved him the better looking he became.  

I was reminded of all this today when I read an article in The Vancouver Observer. The article was called He Stunk to High Heaven. I loved Him Instantly. A woman named Kellie Ann met an English Bulldog in the pound. He was stinky and old and almost blind. He was bored by her. She took him home and loved him anyway. She wrote, "About twenty baths cleaned him up and his hair mostly grew back in. He snored like a drunk and farted like a sailor." He died four years after she adopted him. I was sobbing as I finished the article. I was in awe of this woman who adopted a dog knowing she wouldn't have him for long. I couldn't imagine myself being brave enough to adopt an old dog, knowing that heart-ache would be just around the corner.

What touched me about this story is that this woman loved that dog not for what he could give her, but because he was there to be loved. It reminded me of my experience with Guapo and I realized in reading this article that up until Guapo I had been afraid to love again. I had moved to Yelapa done with men and done with dogs. Loving both had broken my heart. 

Loving is scary. It is not for the weak of heart. If love can promise anything it is that it will break you open at some point. I'm sure Kellie Ann's heart broke when Chester died only four years after she adopted him. And I know my heart will break when Guapo dies one day. I also know that loving him has enabled me to love more. I met my husband in that same small village shortly after adopting Guapo. And that has already broken my heart. I hurt when he is hurting. I feel his pain as if it's my own. I fear the day that we'll have to say goodbye to each other, if we are lucky enough to get that chance. But I know now that no matter how short-lived it may be, it is worth all the courage it takes to love - both my dog and my man.

A deeper connection with mom

I don't know if it's just because Mother's Day is right around the corner but young moms seem to be coming out of the woodwork to tell us here at Bcelebrated how much they appreciate the chance to leave private pages for their kids. This was not something we had expected. We thought that the service would appeal mostly to boomers who were facing their own mortality, or helping their aging parents make the transition.

It turns out that becoming a mom inspires some women to face their own mortality. To our surprise young and not so young moms are catching on to the benefits of Bcelebrated faster than anyone. They are vitally aware of the cycle of life and the importance of leaving a message of love that will last forever.

When my girlfriend Nancy told me why Bcelebrated was important to her it helped me understand the perspective of moms. She said:

"I lost my mother when my daughter was born so I know what a void a departed mother can leave. I have often wondered how I could help prepare my own daughter for this difficult transition when that time comes for her. As emotional as this thought can be, Bcelebrated gives me a unique way to comfort her in some way when I am gone. I have things I would love to share with her about life and about my life in particular that she won't truly appreciate until she is older and more experienced, maybe even as a mother herself. In writing the private page for my her it brings into focus the things I want to tell her. And this opens up a possibility of a deeper connection now while I am still alive."

I'm especially drawn to the idea that as Nancy writes private messages to her daugther, messages that will not be read until my friend has passed away, it opens up the possibility of a deeper connection between the two of them now.

 

I don't have a daughter, but I am a daughter, and it got me thinking...

What if I wrote a letter to my mom with the thought that she would read it only after I am gone? Might I open up a possibility of a deeper connection with her now? 

I don't know the answer but I'm going to find out.

Why not try it with me? 

Write what you would say to your mom if you knew you were going to die. 

How does it shift your relationship just to write it out? Do you feel more gratitude, are you compelled to share the letter with her now? 

Let me know if you try this, with your mom (or daughter), and what you discover. 

Happy Mother's Day