Now, before you start calling to see if I’m contemplating my own demise, I can only say it you REALLY know me, you know my thoughts on the subject of ending one’s own life. As I’ve said, ‘Once is more than enough!’
I remember being 16 or 17 and going on a church retreat with my youth group to St. Francis House in Oyster Bay N.Y. Back then this area in Long Island is filled with old mansions and older money. I haven’t been back lately so I don’t know what is there now, but anyway… Death was one of our topics of discussion and I remember being completely fascinated by it. What happens when you die? Is it like the movies [“Which Dreams May Come (rent the DVD) you can design your own bit of ‘heaven’ and all your friends/family and of course the dog (cat or you fill in the animal of choice) will be there when you think of them, but they also have their little corner of heaven]; do you immediately go to heaven (of course this is the choice destination) or do you head the other way. Is there truly a purgatory like Dante’s Inferno (which by the way scared the stuffing out of me); or the question I still have…”How do you know you’re dead?”
Of course there is no one I know who can tell me what it’s really like. Yes there are people who say, “Go to the light”, but do you really see your life flash before you like a movie on warp speed?
What got me thinking about this lately is the death of Tim Russet. I know he died several weeks ago, but there was something about the amazing out-pouring of love, admiration and affection for him. When you can get Tom Brokaw to promise to drink a bottle of Rolling Rock (which he admittedly “pilfered from Tim’s cooler’) on Election night to honor him as a journalist and lover of the political process. You can tell Tim really touched his life. Yes he was a great journalist, yes he was a loving son, husband, father and yes he loved the Buffalo Bills. This is a man who touched so many people and in death people wanted to express their gratitude for being touched by him. Like the funeral of Princess Diana, Pope JPII (who is still the best Pope ever!!!) Mother Theresa, and yes I’m embarrassed to say Anna Nicole I found myself once again glued to the television. I wondered if there was something morbid about that – getting sneaking a glimpse into their lives through the thoughts of their friends.
More recently there was Estelle Getty, one of TV’s ‘The Golden Girls’ who died this week. If you listen to the news they all remembered the joy and laughter she shared as an actress.
I also think of Randy Pausch who created "The Last Lecture". If you've never seen his talk on achieving your dreams and how he wanted to be remembered please do.
I find it almost interesting that people will say “XYZ died so young, in the prime of life.” You never hear anyone say “XYZ died right on time.” Death is not proud but how you live your life should be.
So my thought for this week … How do I want to be remembered? When it’s my turn, my ticket is punched, the gig is up…what ever you want to call it, what do I want my friends and family to say about me? Some of this is still a work in progress, and I hope to have the opportunity to live long enough to make it all reality.
I want to be remembered as a fiercely loyal daughter, sister, wife & friend.
A foodie who loved a good steak, great wine (not too earthy ☺) and a good piece of Lemon cake. Someone who loved to cook and yet was better at baking although I didn’t do it nearly enough. After all, how much can a girl eat and keep her girlish figure?
A photographer who tried to capture things others missed. Some things to make you laugh, cry or simply provoke thought. Someone who saw things through a different kind of lens; without fear or preconceived notion.
A writer who worked hard to capture the true essence of her characters and tell a story that was interesting to those who honored me by reading my words.
A Brooklyn DIVA who loved a cashmere wrap, and my Manolo Blahniks’. Someone who constantly wore orange, and/or pink and brown because they were my favorite colors.
As someone who wore my heart not on my sleeve but my fingertips (right B?). Yes it sometimes hurt, I wouldn’t live life any other way.
As a woman who desperately wanted to have a child, but God had another plan in mind. So I used the time I was given to love, teach and spoil my niece and nephews. I also shared myself fully with the children of my friends as auntie or Godmother. When the opportunity to become a foster mother and/or to adopt was available, I took it. The child, yet to be named, yet to be seen is truly my child because I needed them as much as then needed me.
Even though a die-hard New Yorker, Oxford was my second home, and at every opportunity I would go back to realign my spirit. It’s the place where being smart wasn’t a novelty, but more a matter of fact. ‘Have passport will fly’ is my motto and yes I’ve been known to fly to Copenhagen for a pound of butter and a new wool sweater.
I think most of all; I want to be remembered as a good person, someone who liked to have a good time and someone who just wanted to be happy. Even thought I hated my chocolate years (2006-2008), I tried not to complain too much, to be brave and helped others to know there are more kinds of cancer that target women beyond what you hear on TV or see advertised on the sides of buses and trains. Not taking anything thing aware from breast cancer survivors (really, believe me I’m not putting you down, or belittling what you go through), but you can get another breast. I can’t have another uterus. The pain of knowing that there are so few to champion the cause, the pain and suffering that is attached to a body part I’d grown pretty fond of is why I decided to make this my cause. This is my fight to bring awareness to an ‘unseen’ cancer.
So if I someday become famous or at the end of my life, I want you to come to my funeral “New Orleans Style”, No Black Allowed!! There should be balloons in vibrant colors that you will release (I promise to catch the orange one) to fly to the corners of the sky. I will be listening for ‘80’s’ old-school jams and I expect a lot of fun stories. I want you to have amazing food and smoke cigars. Please open a good bottle of scotch and drink to my life. Finally promise me you’ll dance…dance like there’s no tomorrow, because in reality it’s not promised, so why wait…dance for me today! How do you want to be remembered?
