The Will 4/10/24

It was a five-month process that culminated today. I called the event “the signing ceremony.”

In 2008, when I first drafted my will, I was 61, feeling healthy, pain free, busy building my business and riding my horse. I was still clutching my Boomer Attitude of invincibility and was pretty flippant about all the end-of-life decisions that needed to be made legal.

Last year, I spent my 76^th birthday with a friend who had updated her will and we poured over it to see what changes I needed to make these many years later.

So much had changed in 16 years: my horse, my cats, my home, some friendships, and the deaths of both my mother and father. Not to mention my lung disease which brought me face to face with imminent mortality. The summer of that diagnosis, all I was capable of doing was giving away everything I had stored in my basement after the move, throwing out all my refrigerated condiments, and handwriting notes about the care of my kittens and new horse in case of my death.

This year when I committed to update my will, along with the usual DNR stuff, I wanted to specify friends to notify of my death and the description of how I wanted to experience my final days. I began filling out forms and writing paragraphs.

After five years with no ‘medicinal wine’ in my system, I was now feeling everything. It is difficult to describe the grief and pain as I wrote. I didn’t just think about dying, I was immersed in the experience. I cried on and off for days. I imagined and felt the sorrow of lying in a hospital bed, in my living room, with my cats keeping me warm. And as friends visited to say goodbye, offering any of the items in my home as my final gifts.

Then as I brought each friend into my heart, I recalled our connection, our history, and the tears continued. Then imagining saying goodbye to my beautiful horse and two delightful cats I descended even deeper into the sorrow and wept. As I said, this lasted for many days before I could finish the forms in order for my lawyer to execute the will.

Upon completion, I was completely wrung out, or as my mother used to say, ‘you look like you have been dragged through a keyhole backward.’

Now, what remains is the awe and privilege of being able to live this life.

Each day, I look up, take a few moments to acknowledge the Nature all around me, my delightful, unique friends, and my animal companions. And to be born in a country of relative safety with food, water, and a warm shelter. I’m doing my best not to take each day for granted.

Mostly now, I look up with appreciation and hear these words…..

 “these precious days ….this beautiful earth.”

Thank you.