Bucket List, Epitaph
My Bucket List
25/06/08 21:32 Filed in: General
Few people will read this, I expect, so it seems the
perfect place for me to try to make sense of my life.
It is my own epitaph, I suppose. I’ll stay tuned to
this channel until the end is nearer, and perhaps
find better words.
I’ve done pretty well as the son of two school teachers. I was lucky (I guess) enough to be born with some fair amount of brains. The good sense was imparted by my parents. I wanted to change the world, and suppose that I have, in tiny ways. I do know that I’ve changed a few lives for the better. I set my own standards and tried hard to live up to them. I’ve cried until sleep was the only safe place to go. I’ve laughed until I cried, and way more than once. I made choices. I took risks. I found love. And lost it.
Some say that no one wants to die alone. Not me. I’ve never thought that. I want to die alone. No memorial service, either. They are ghastly things, too little and way, way too late. And no gathering of family or friends. What has needed to be said has either already been said or it hasn’t, and when I’m gone, I won’t care. There have been some special people in my life, and I was glad for their counsel and company. My brother will undoubtedly mourn my passing, because we were brothers, after all, and though we drifted apart for a long while, it has been good to have him as my brother during these last few years of my life. Thank you, brother.
Others will miss me because (of course) being dead, I’ll be making no more art. This will sadden some, and be a herald of profit potential for others, but I care not.
And a few... a very few will miss me because of who I am and what I made of myself. They’re the important ones.
I was never a real father, though at times I certainly felt like one. I fought for both my pretend children just as hard and consistently as I fought for their mother, though they never new the battles were taking place. Whether they choose to hate me now is just an issue with which they will have to deal. (Oh, that will create some angry words!)
All that bothers me is that I will not be missed by the woman I loved for most of my adult life. That’s why I’m crying now, I guess.
---
Ah, my bucket list. It is short. Of all the things I wanted to do over my lifetime two now remain. They were always few and they changed over time, but they’ve all been crossed off or dropped from the list due to the exigencies of life. And now there are but these two.
1. Get the last legal hurdles for Mary and Rebecca settled.
2. Purchase this condo for my brother so that he'll have a place of his own if I die before he does.
I’ve also promised to do 10 more paintings, at least, but they will only be ways to fill the days, and I expect that I’ll live long enough to fulfill that promise. But it is this short list of two items that, to me, must be done before I can die with little (I so wanted to say NO) regret.
Beyond that, I have little to say. Pick your battles (but pick only the ones you can win); otherwise, just make your point and bow out. Accept responsibility for yourself. Find joy when and if you can; the good news is that you get to define the meaning of joy.
And know that when I die, I will die on my own terms if I can. If not by disease, then by some other means: a means of my choosing. And I will choose to die alone, as I always knew I would. Though it is I who am leaving, it is to you that I say a hearty and heart-felt BON VOYAGE!
I’ve done pretty well as the son of two school teachers. I was lucky (I guess) enough to be born with some fair amount of brains. The good sense was imparted by my parents. I wanted to change the world, and suppose that I have, in tiny ways. I do know that I’ve changed a few lives for the better. I set my own standards and tried hard to live up to them. I’ve cried until sleep was the only safe place to go. I’ve laughed until I cried, and way more than once. I made choices. I took risks. I found love. And lost it.
Some say that no one wants to die alone. Not me. I’ve never thought that. I want to die alone. No memorial service, either. They are ghastly things, too little and way, way too late. And no gathering of family or friends. What has needed to be said has either already been said or it hasn’t, and when I’m gone, I won’t care. There have been some special people in my life, and I was glad for their counsel and company. My brother will undoubtedly mourn my passing, because we were brothers, after all, and though we drifted apart for a long while, it has been good to have him as my brother during these last few years of my life. Thank you, brother.
Others will miss me because (of course) being dead, I’ll be making no more art. This will sadden some, and be a herald of profit potential for others, but I care not.
And a few... a very few will miss me because of who I am and what I made of myself. They’re the important ones.
I was never a real father, though at times I certainly felt like one. I fought for both my pretend children just as hard and consistently as I fought for their mother, though they never new the battles were taking place. Whether they choose to hate me now is just an issue with which they will have to deal. (Oh, that will create some angry words!)
All that bothers me is that I will not be missed by the woman I loved for most of my adult life. That’s why I’m crying now, I guess.
---
Ah, my bucket list. It is short. Of all the things I wanted to do over my lifetime two now remain. They were always few and they changed over time, but they’ve all been crossed off or dropped from the list due to the exigencies of life. And now there are but these two.
1. Get the last legal hurdles for Mary and Rebecca settled.
2. Purchase this condo for my brother so that he'll have a place of his own if I die before he does.
I’ve also promised to do 10 more paintings, at least, but they will only be ways to fill the days, and I expect that I’ll live long enough to fulfill that promise. But it is this short list of two items that, to me, must be done before I can die with little (I so wanted to say NO) regret.
Beyond that, I have little to say. Pick your battles (but pick only the ones you can win); otherwise, just make your point and bow out. Accept responsibility for yourself. Find joy when and if you can; the good news is that you get to define the meaning of joy.
And know that when I die, I will die on my own terms if I can. If not by disease, then by some other means: a means of my choosing. And I will choose to die alone, as I always knew I would. Though it is I who am leaving, it is to you that I say a hearty and heart-felt BON VOYAGE!