I think about mortality as much as the next 51-year-old – maybe more so because I have a neuro-degenerative disease that may result in disability, dementia or death – but not now. I’m here and quite alright now. And now is the only gift that we are guaranteed so hope that you’ll join me and embrace it.
I hope that while I shuffle along upon this mortal coil that I can make the faces of those who walk with me smile. I hope that I can give a voice to those emotions we’re not supposed to feel so that there is less stigma. And more laughter. Feel everything and anything that is how we know we’re alive. I tell my children that their feelings are their business – how they act upon those impulses is where I offer parameters and guidance. Go on and hate your sibling – but no, you can’t punch them. You can hate me too and yes, I may be wrong, unfair and downright rotten. But I am your mother and you are subject to my rules. So you might as well laugh – while you’re rolling your eyes and sighing. Loudly.
Laugh often at the absurdity that is this life, at yourself, and at others too — but only If you do so lovingly and with them. I hope that I can be of service to myself and the universe by helping all of us find the joy in that laughter and maybe even in those tears. I will work to feed your funny bone. I will hope that you’ll smile when you think of me and that if I ply my craft with a wee bit of grace, should it exist within me, that I’ll leave some of my joie de vivre on a page or a screen and in a smile when my time here ends.