Three Sentences

Ok, first off, I know it's been a really, really long time since my last post. This doesn't mean that I haven't been writing or even more importantly, that I haven't been thinking. A tremendous amount of activities--some medical, some not--coupled with an introverted state of mind, account for this.

Fast forward to now. Ended up in the hospital earlier this week with a post-surgical complication that was so painful that I truly was scared that I might die. This level of fear is rare for me, and as it turns out, one of the docs told me that had the problem been left unresolved, it easily could have been fatal (tangential note to self: congratulations on coming out of a 20-year fog and re-learning to trust your intuition). During my transport in the ambulance from my physician's office to the hospital (when we still didn't grasp what the problem was other than there was pain that couldn't be controlled, even by narcotics), I felt compelled to compose something to leave for my children in the event of...ummm...well...you know.....

Anyway, I kept it to 3 sentences, thinking ever pragmatically that 3 sentences would be easy to write or to dictate to someone if needed. Here is the distillation of thoughts that were running rampant during that ride:


To my most Special Boy and my most Precious Boy,

The purpose of life: To leave the world in a better condition than it was when you entered.

Instructions: Try to live every day with integrity and to take as many opportunities as you reasonably can to experience the joy of putting someone else ahead of yourself.

Parting words: I certainly am at a great loss to tell you how deeply I love each of you, but I hope that one day when you have a child of your own, this experience will more than make up for my lack of words--especially if you remember back to this note and double the bliss, gratitude, and wondrous blessing that you feel the first time you hold your special, precious newborn in your arms.

All my love, forever and always--
Mommy


As I transcribe these thoughts tonight and think more about the things that seemed most fundamental and heart-felt that day, I still stand by them. What you (my boys) don't yet know is that I am starting to create books and boxes for each of you, books and boxes that will be filled with photos, reading lists, stories of your childhood, birthday and bar mitzvah gifts, and to my best effort, the types of conversations that I hope to have with you as you grow into young men, but that will nevertheless be written down "just in case". By no means is this even remotely a mind-set of "giving up"--but for my own peace of mind, especially as I go through treatment, it is imperative to me that you have as much as possible, whatever I can give you--should that day come too soon. And for every year that passes, I will celebrate with immense joy and gratitude for the milestones that we have shared, and smile in private victory as I move yet another item or letter into your "before" box.

This is much of what has captured my focus and kept me from completing draft posts that have been lingering untouched for the past few months. Oh, and compilation of a second bucket list*--one that I am planning for the stuff I want to do after I die. I promise to be back soon.

*item number 1 is to take dance lessons from Michael Jackson