So, Today is Apparently My Last Day
FOUR MINUTE READ - A Fictionalized Story
I’m not talking about here on Substack, I’m talking about HERE, like the BIG HERE!
Last night, shortly after I’d rolled into a deep sleep, I heard an angelic voice. It was that of our long-lost neighbor, Eva. Though she had died ten years ago, she looked good, but her words were anything but good. “Mark, I’m so sorry to wake you for bad news, but today is your last day.” And then she added her signature “but I know it’s going to be all right.”
In an instant, she’d vanished. Even though she was one of the kindest, most down to earth people I’d ever met, her words were downright creepy! Never having had a premonition before, I tried to let it go.
But it ended up taking me hours of tossing and turning to get back to something resembling sleep. On some level I knew I was dreaming, but happy to be hooking into my old hang-glider again. I stood, taking in the breeze at the top of the mountain. I’d just started to charge down the twenty-foot ramp to get up to flying speed, when out of nowhere, came my long-gone mother’s voice - “Don’t forget your seatbelt, I’ll see you soon.” I sat bolt upright in bed and started shaking.
I quietly got up, and in a trance, walked to the bathroom. Even the mirror looked ominous. After what seemed like hours of consternation, I finally got back to sleep, only to be awakened by my long-dead father’s startling yell - “Get the hell out of bed - don’t you dare waste this day!”
Somehow my wife managed to stay asleep in spite of my turbulent and terrifying night. I had more than a sneaking suspicion that I was going to die.
The following is my plan for the day, starting at 5 a.m., to minimize the chances that I exit stage right before the play is “all done.”
Speaking of “all done,” those are two of the most treasured words I’d ever heard. They once, somehow escaped from my 99% non-verbal, ten-year-old grandson’s mouth. We’d played chase and tickle all around the house, up and down the stairs, onto and off of his bunk bed - him laughing the whole time. After ten minutes, we’d both stopped and sat there catching our breath, and those two words, “all done,” which came out of the depths of his emotion - were glorious.
So, with that thought as a primer, my first priority is to write a text to my daughter but hold off sending it for a few hours. She’d kill me if I sent one this early, and my sweet grandson hadn’t awakened her by his usual four or five a.m.
I’d ask her to hug both of my grandkids and just tell them I love having them in my life, along with their ever-evolving Mom. I’d ask her to thank my dearest seven-year-old granddaughter for keeping me well-fed from her cookstove whenever she visits. And to thank both of them for their marvelous hugs.
And I would send a text to my son, tell him he makes me smile a lot, and wish him a wonderful day. Of course, I would like to tell them all directly how proud they’ve made me, and how much I love them. I so yearn to hear their voices just one last time, but I know I would break down and they’d think I was dying or something.
So, after writing the texts, and setting my phone alarm so I don’t forget to send them in a few hours, I fired up the Keurig. Grabbing my favorite mug, I poured in some extra Half & Half. I knew I had a long day ahead of me and a lot of stuff to take in. Or maybe a short day - was I going to choke to death on my breakfast? Speaking of breakfast, my bride usually gets up a couple hours after I do. But on this day, instead of me cooking breakfast, we would splurge, and I’d take Emily to the new coffee shop downtown.
BTW, just for the record, I really don’t like the idea of checking out so soon. All the division in this world has taken its toll on my tolerance for imperfections in myself, and others. I need to develop a longer fuse and that’s a process that’s not happening overnight.
Per usual, my anger has little to do with relatively small missteps. It does have everything to do with my over-flowing angst as I try to process another day’s newsfeed filled with deception, denialism, and greed. Today of all days, I need to be deliberate with my focus. I’m reminded of the words of one of my old mentors, a guy named Paul. “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, where there be any excellence, where there be anything worthy of praise - think about these things.”
I decided to put my schedule and my “to do list” on the back burner. Maybe literally. I could add my bucket list and have a ritual type burning - with the stove fan on.
One of the most important things that came to mind beyond spending some quality time with my wife, was to try really hard to actually RELAX. I know the words “try really hard” and “relax” don’t usually hang out together. But if I literally don’t keep moving, bonified chilling for me is elusive at best.
I’ve always been a fixer. Somewhere within the two Alanon meetings I attended, I heard that children of alcoholics can get sucked into that role and never escape it. They grow up feeling like they’re the only adult in the room. Though I’m a minimally skilled practitioner, I’ve always felt compelled to mend something - troubled minds, broken bodies, confused spirits, short-circuited relationships, dilapidated homes, or blatantly corrupt politicians. It’s the worst kind of addiction, but just this one day, I’m going to try to shut it down. There are plenty of other equally sick people that can carry that baton.
My wife’s stirring around upstairs, so I’ll get back to you in a couple hours and let you know what the rest of my day’s plans are.
SORRY - if I “forgot” to mention that this was partially fiction.
Since Iraq, every day has been the kind of gift I cannot take for granted. Knowing I've been dead for 15 years already, has changed everything in my life for the better. Ghosts walking have powers beyond anything I could have imagined.
Nightmare last week: as I’m being led to the electric chair I think “I thought I’d always have one more day to get it right.” Waking, I know I only have so many days. Since then I’ve been getting small things at least *more* right, one day at a time.