Our last act on earth will be taking our last breath. Visualize breathing in and out one last time. Isn’t that crazy to think about? I watched my Mama take hers and it is a moment engrained in my mind forever. I’m sure many of you have been there.
As we finally exhale, our calendars will mean nothing. The appointments will just go unattended, notes won’t make sense to anyone, our kids will likely discuss who gets the darn thing and whether to trash it or not.
All the trinkets and books, clothes and cars, dishes and tupperware and makeup, jewelry and golf clubs, all that stuff we had to have will be left to someone to deal with. It’ll wind up at a thrift store or be sold or go home with our people only to be accumulated again. How many generations does “stuff” get passed down anyway?
Our hairdo won’t matter anymore although I hope my kids brush mine before sending me into eternity, I hope they add a dash of lipstick so Mama will be happy, and my waistline… well, only the pallbearers will care about that, bless – their – everloving – hearts. Can I apologize now?
All the worries will die with us, the bills, the retirement fund, even those about our children that have weighed on our hearts…. we won’t be sad or worried about them anymore. Thankfully we can’t take worry with us.
We won’t give a fat rat’s butt about those people who hurt us, criticized us, judged us. Yay! If there’s an option with this gig, we’ll haunt them perhaps!
We’ll breathe out that last time and our phones will ding a while longer until everyone figures out we’re gone or until the battery dies. Eventually, some poor soul will have to call the phone company or go by a Verizon store (pray for them), get it turned off, figure out what to do with it, and it’ll wind up in a drawer unused or in the trash… that darn $1,000 phone will be worth ZERO.
You know what else is going to happen right after our last breath? People will go to work, out to eat, take trips, play golf and bridge, sit at ballgames, take pictures, and laugh. Yes, the world will still laugh after we take our last breath. Some of our loved ones may feel guilty about laughing for a bit. I hope mine don’t, I’d prefer they laugh at me. But life life will go on without skipping a beat.
Time – waits – for – no – one. It doesn’t have a pause button. If only it did.
I wish we could learn to choose what we invest in based on “Will this matter when I’m gone.” Will it end up in the thrift store? Will anyone care about this? Will this dance in the kitchen be remembered or this blanket fort or this laughter around the firepit with friends. I think we all know the answers to these, right?
It strikes me now that only the intangibles we leave behind will last forever… the moments, the memories, our impact… the power of something that can’t be held in a hand.
So, to end this rambling, I pray my kids don’t quibble over throwing away the tupperware but quibble over which of my cakes were the funniest looking or which gift I hid from myself the best. I hope my sweetheart doesn’t think twice about getting rid of my truck to someone who needs it and laughs as he remembers the day I brought it home like a five year old with her first bike. I pray my friends don’t think twice about getting rid of a weird gift I gave them but that they laugh until they pee in their pants at me drinking wine until “my face fell asleep.” Yes, I said that. I hope they laugh – a – lot. At my expense. And I hope God gives me the chance to laugh with them even from afar.
What intangible thing can you do today to leave tomorrow? Let’s make a list…