Death's Coming Over for Dinner. What Should I Make?

Today I've spent the first, of several hours, designing a funeral program for a friend's sister. She hasn't passed yet but, in an attempt to prepare, they have asked that I begin the design.

I've been provided with a few mishandled photos, that require serious attention, to be remotely presentable.

That sounds like I'm complaining. I'm not. As I meticulously remove the scratches, hairs, and random mysterious artifacts from each scan, I am struck with the heaviness of the situation. Perhaps even a bit of guilt, staring at the smiling face in the photo, knowing she's unaware of these preparations.

The sister's liver is failing. The doctors have released her from the hospital, to live out her remaining days in the comfort of her home. Though it's her doing, through years of alcohol abuse, it doesn't make it any easier to see a sibling (someone that has only recently turned 40) slip away.

At first, the thought of the design proceeding the death, seemed inappropriate. However, it took only a few thoughtful moments to realize that, not only was this practical (because who wants to worry about this in the days preceding the actual funeral,) but it is also a means to deal, cope, and distract from the severity of the situation.

To say, we as a race, think about death a lot, is an understatement. We consider death when we pull out of our drive way, when we eat a greasy hamburger, walk across an icy parking lot, and when soberly inspecting our thinning / graying hair.

I'm going to die. There, I said it. Will it be:
a) In 1 year
b) In 20 years
c) In 60 Years
d) All of the above

The answer might as well be D, because I lapsed on the payments for my crystal ball.

Not going to give you one of those live for the day speeches. How could I possibly type something like that when, only last weekend, I wasted an entire Saturday parked in front of a "Beauty and the Geek" marathon. If I really thought life was precious, wouldn't I have taken that Saturday and at least done something productive, like finally beat that AFI song, in Guitar Hero, on hard?

I have both fond memories, and giant holes, stored in my gray matter concerning the first 36 years of me. I cherish every memory and gap equally. I have a few regrets: Specific moments where I let people down, was embarrassingly mean / thoughtless, or lost sight of taking care of myself.

One regret is the first Rebecca. A girl that I met in college. She was an amazing doodle artist, inspired soul, and a southern girl to boot. I was in one of my off phases with the ex-wife (then, only my ex-girlfriend,) when I met the first Rebecca. When things got serious, my brain melted with indecision, and I returned to my ex.

If I had controlled my elusive mental focus and stayed with first Rebecca, there is a chance I would have never married my ex and thus avoided the divorce all together. But there's the catch: If I didn't run back to my ex, get married, and divorced, I would have never fallen in love with Rebecca the last. Last not because she is the last one so far, but the last true love I will have, the only one I want, and the ultimate match for me and my remaining days. So this regret is really pointless. It all happened exactly like it should have.

No I'm not writing a self help book, nor have I ever suffered reading one. But being this happy, I can't imagine that anything I did, up until falling for the lady, was wrong. And I'm certainly not applying that ugly, ugly word regret to anything of the sort.

There is nothing you can do to avoid death. People try, by making themselves look younger, buying that o-so-cliche sports car, and dating people that are the same age as their offspring. None of that works. You're chasing the dragon, man. The fountain of youth. The pot of ... you get the point.

As a matter of fact, death is about the only thing you can't do a single thing about. Sure you can eat better and exercise but that's not a guarantee. No, nothing can stop it. So here's a thought: Stop worrying about it.

Easier said that done is a phrase I loathe. But, in this particular moment ... well, it fits so well, that I must.

Whatever you need to do to get there, do it. Study Buddhism or listen to "All We Are is Dust in the Wind" over and over, but do something. I don't have to tell you that, once you accept death as a card life deals on occasion, you'll be much happier. But in case I do need to tell you, I just did.

I have to get back to work on those photos. Yes I'm putting a lot of time into them, but it gives me comfort, to provide comfort to such a dear friend. And I hope, when I meet my (hopefully dramatic car chase induced) demise, that someone will do the same for me.