emptying my engine

assuming they are fairly healthy, i think we assume people are going to be there day after day. i especially mean the people closest to us, those whom we see or talk to or think about often. the ones who reside in our hearts. and so i think we go about our lives with focus on at least some things that, in hindsight, may not be nearly important enough to warrant so much of our attention. those day to day trivialities can keep us from saying and doing the things that we might wish we had said and done if our people (or we) are not there one day. i know it makes sense to live that way rather than living a life of trepidation and of looking over our shoulders, waiting for bad news. it'd be too stressful, too exhausting, too consuming to live our lives the other way.

i've been two degrees of separation from several people whose lives have ended abruptly over the past year or so. i have been reminded of the sheer finality of death, and felt and witnessed the sense of longing we have for just one more day, a few more words, with a loved one who has departed. i've known the hopelessness of trying to comfort those in grief - a parent losing a child, a spouse losing their mate, siblings separated by an untimely departure, a child losing their parent - when no words come because there are no words. and through all of it, the stark reminder that any day it could be any of us.

i'm trying to face that truth with courage. i'm trying to use it as motivation to reset my internal tape recorder, to pick my head up and focus outward, and to take opportunities to make my interactions with others overwhelmingly positive even if just in some small way. of course when that dipshit is tailgating me, my efforts momentarily wane because i am, after all, human. and he is, after all, a dipshit.

maybe it's the fact that i've, at best, reached the half way point in

my journey here (and way more likely i've been on the downward slide for a while now) that brings all of this introspection and contemplation to the fore front. i seem to be spending a lot of time in this place and space lately. maybe this is what they mean by midlife crisis. it doesn't feel so much a crisis per se' but there's a lot weighing on my mind and in my heart these days - i want to make sure that what i leave behind is positive, i want to make sure i empty my engine of all of the good stuff - because i won't be needing it once my time comes, and i won't have the opportunity once the time comes for someone i love. i want to make sure that i've said and done as much as i can for others so that when we are inevitably separated, whoever remains has something to hold on to.

when i make my final exit, i believe that anything left in my heart goes with me. the good intention and energy of a loving touch, kind word, or generous gesture that goes undelivered is forever lost. by the same token, the pain or scar of an ugly thought or selfish expression goes with me as well. none of it will do me any good once i am gone - that energy, positive or negative, just dissipates. and i don't mind taking the negative stuff with me - good riddance to it - but if i share the good stuff while i am still here, that positive energy lives on for at least a little longer in the hearts or minds of anyone i may have touched.

i recently read someone's autobiographical obituary. i did not know this man, but know that he had a terminal disease and knew his time in this life was limited. so he wrote his own obit. it was beautiful and funny and touching and clearly must have been a tremendous gift to those he left behind - not only because it was an opportunity for them to hear his words once more, but also because i think that writing an obit would be a burden on someone who is already grieving - so why not help them out? after all, who knows your life better than you do? i actually thought of going one step further. imagine writing our own eulogies. it would be quite an exercise in introspection and contemplation - with a real, valuable, tangible outcome. a parting gift, of sorts - a final chance to leave something on the table for our loved ones. empty our hearts of all of the good stuff - give the positive energy a chance to live a little longer in the hearts of others. and let the negative stuff go with us. i'm intrigued.

what would we want our final words to be, what would we want to leave behind? this is an exercise i want to explore in 2013. of course, in the unlikely event that i get hit by an asteroid tomorrow, then this very post will have to suffice.