The other day, someone asked me something important.
She said…”Christina, do you have any words for those of us who started this journey not quite as young as yourself. Those of us, who may only have 10 or less years to live. If I was younger, I think I would have more hope to be happier one day, but the years left are few and I can’t find any joy in the upcoming blankness of my future.”
I wanted to answer this question fully and dedicate a whole letter to it.
As I have been asked this many times before.
My first husband was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer when I was 30 and he was 31.
I was widowed at age 34. I am now 48 years old.
Being thrusted upon tragedy so early on it catapulted me to a very different timeline.
It sped everything up.
I was aging emotionally much faster than the people in my life who were the same age as me. I was experiencing things that only much older people had experienced.
I had more things in common with a 70 year old woman than I did with a 30 year old.
I have said this before and I will say it again, grief lives outside of time and space.
It takes you out of the normal linear timeline and puts you in a timeless experience.
In many ways I have felt much older in my mind for quite some time now.
So I feel I could speak to this question about older age and loss.
If I was much older and I had just a few years left to live after his passing…I have to tell you..
I would have very few material things.
Possibly living in a small home or apartment.
I would have plants everywhere. Inside and outside.
I would invest in my favorite mugs so every morning’s coffee would feel really special in my hands. I would read every day and I would immerse myself in the stories I found on the pages of the books. I would be taken away by them. I would write a lot too.
Possibly my best books.
I would spend a lot of time on my own. I do love my own company now.
I would paint all the paintings I never got the chance to paint when I was younger and was working so hard. My monthly expenses would be very few.
I would probably spend most of my money on books, paint brushes and coffee mugs.
If I had extra, I would find a way to give it to someone who didn’t have what I had.
I would visit the church.
Maybe even find many different churches to visit.
And if my health allowed me to travel I would either drive myself, fly or get on buses to faraway places with groups of people the same age as me.
I would find joy in the smallest moments of my life.
I would observe the world going by.
I would find out about people’s lives and try to help them solve their problems.
I would take myself to the movies.
And maybe even try to be an extra in one. I know right? Why not.
If I needed to make extra money to live and I didn’t have my book writing to support me. I would work at a local coffee house.
I would be very grateful to have had the life I had.
Especially for the parts of my life that I took for granted.
The everyday stuff.
Whenever I would feel afraid about dying I would go and remind myself about all the things I know about death. And get excited about experiencing it.
After all, by then I would know many people who have already passed.
In the last 14 years since the loss of my very young husband I fell in love with my inner self.
She keeps me so busy.
I identify very much with Henry Miller’s words.
“Some day I am going to own a few feet of earth somewhere and put a house over it.
Just one big room will do. A stove. And a basin of water.
A huge desk. A bookcase and an easel.
Then life can go rolling by, and what floats in through my door will be sufficient for me.”
The simplicity of what he described is my joy.
Tragedy doesn’t scare me as much any more.
So my answer to the question about age, living fully after loss late in life can be summed up with feeling grateful to still be alive and finding my way through a normal day.
A day with a book, a flower, a tomato from my garden and a good mug of coffee.
I would own two pairs of jeans. A black tshirt. Or two.
Flip flops for the summer, sneakers and a pair of boots for the winter.
My hair would be short. The shortest possible.
Finally I would say yes to that short hair do I always wanted.
I would hope to have a few good friends so I could gossip with them.
And finally, I would feel so wealthy.
When money, or success or any kind of appearances mean not much.
When I won over my anxieties by detaching from any kind of wanting, but just being grateful for the sun in the sky and the ground that holds my life together.
I will die a free person.
And that freedom of needing nothing takes away any sorrow or blackness.
The sooner I can get to Henry Miller’s dream life the happier I will be.
I never imagined that my goal in life would be to have less, to want less.
Oh and one more thing before I end this letter, I love animals.
I would have as many animals as possible.
They remind me of the innocence I lost so early on in my life.
So to the person who asked me that question I hope you know that being here with ten years left to live can bring to you the most divine moments of your life.
Keep your life simple. Keep yourself present.
And smile looking outside your window marveling at the birds, the trees and the big blue sky.
It is all for you! (Click to tweet!)
With so many mugs of coffee,
Christina
P.S I am finally teaching the The Temple class this fall. I am sorry it took so long for me to run this class again. For anyone who has lost someone they loved and want to connect to the world beyond this one. Register here: www.thetempleeffect.com
