Do you ever think about your own mortality?
I do.
It always happens in the weeks leading up to a flight. Any flight. But especially a flight to south Florida.
In 1996, ValuJet Flight 592 from Miami to Atlanta crashed in the Everglades, killing all on board. What made this plane crash particularly gruesome was the fact that it took place in a deep-water swamp where sawgrass, alligators, and risk of bacterial infection hindered efforts to recover what little remained of the plane.
Memories of the crash coverage rest dormant in the farthest recesses of my mind, only to surface every couple of years just before our biennial vacation to West Palm Beach. Fortunately for them, all 110 souls on board died instantly upon impact. But what if one or more had lived through the crash only to be marooned in a remote portion of swampland, facing certain death from the elements?
What a horrible way to die.
These are the types of thoughts that invariably creep into my head in the weeks leading up to a flight – usually upon waking in the middle of the night, when the quiet darkness can lead the mind down a dark and twisty path to a place where even the most irrational concepts seem entirely conceivable.
And then I finally board the damn flight and it’s rather uneventful and actually quite boring.
Yet my fear remains. Not of flying, but of death in general.
The thought of dying has not always frightened me. Once upon a time, ensnared in the grip of a debilitating depressive episode, it actually seemed like a welcome respite. Simple relief from the chaos in my head.
I was neither reckless nor suicidal; I merely existed, apathetic to the world around me. In no way living, yet ambivalent toward death, I drifted along from day to day allowing the depression to play its twisted tricks on my mind until I finally broke free of its stronghold with the help of therapy, medication, and sheer will.
Twelve years and infinite amounts of perspective later, however, it is another existence that prohibits me from ever again possessing such indifference toward life. Or death, for that matter.
As a mother, the fear of losing my child is only slightly more agonizing than that of my exiting her life too soon. It’s a scenario in which I can’t help but feel we would both be robbed – her of maternal guidance and the unique bond that exists between mother and child, and me of the privilege of watching her grow and flourish.
I also can’t help but think that such tragedy would not play out in dramatic fashion, but instead by way of something far more sinister and unexpected lurking among the mundane of our day-to-day lives. A drunk driver. A falling tree in a violent storm. Or one of the myriad of terminal illnesses that eat away at both body and soul.
So, I’m making a request. One that should go without saying, but I’m nonetheless putting out there, in writing – not unlike a living will.
Should my life be cut short before Lil’ Bit is fully grown, I ask that someone – be it husband, parents, friend, or even loyal reader – please print the stories told in this blog, bind them, and give them to her.
As she grows, read them to her and encourage her to read them herself, helping her to know me in doing so. To see her life through my eyes. To share in my memories. To hear my voice.
May she then carry my soul in her heart. For that is the gift of writing.
Hello! I'm Kristin, a self-proclaimed city girl now living the rural life with my husband, daughter, and a black cat named Boo in eastern West Virginia – or as I like to spin it, the far western suburbs of D.C.
Welcome to What She Said, an irreverent blend of family, life, and humor. Because if I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.
You’re not the only one. I think about death too. I worry that the kids won’t have me and they’ll be left with only Jeff…who we know isn’t always swift.
Ali’s last awesome post…Weird Husband Beliefs – My Letter to Katie Holmes
I know Hubs would make it without me (although I do worry about what Lil’ Bit would eat every night for dinner). I’m not so much worried about him.
I would just miss her terribly.
Twitter: AlisonSWLee
I am so aware of my mortality. I even sometimes think, what if I slip and fall at home and die, and what will happen to the toddler and the baby who will remain undiscovered for hours? What then? Ohmygod, I better not die!
So yeah.
Also, yes, writing. Writing all this down is so important.
Alison’s last awesome post…Memories Captured – July Link Up! And Some News
I’ve had that exact same thought, Alison, right down to calculating how many hours it would take for Lil’ Bit to be discovered alone in the house. It’s why I always take care to walk carefully down the stairs in the morning, after Hubs has gone to work and I’m rushing around frantically trying to get Lil’ Bit and me out the door to work and school. I clutch that banister with a death grip.
Twitter: mommyboots
Your writing echoes the fears in my heart. Losing Nellie and leaving her too soon are my two worst fears. I have been more fearful of death since being so close to it following my own Mother’s death this past December. You’re definitely not the only one feeling these things.
Mommy Boots’s last awesome post…Math is the Devil.
Those are my two greatest fears too, followed closely by losing my husband and my parents. It hurts too much to even really think about – sort of a suffocating feeling, like someone’s standing on my chest and choking me at the same time. But my mind still goes there from time to time.
I can understand how being so close to death would also dredge up such thoughts. And I know you’ve struggled with your mom’s since you lost her in December. Sending you thoughts of peace. XOXO
Twitter: mommyboots
The girls that I work with and I were all chatting about how terrifying it is to think about losing your child. It’s one of those things you cannot let your brain rest on too long, or you will quite literally seize up and panic. I know that suffocating feeling you’re talking about; when I think about losing my husband or daughter, it absolutely feels like that. That’s when I guess we just have to force the thoughts out of our brains and try and think of kittens, or soft jazz, or something.
Mommy Boots’s last awesome post…Math is the Devil.
Twitter: SplatteredApron
Your description right there of suffocating while also choking is exactly how I feel if I think too long about the idea of something happening to my daughter, husband or parents. Leaving my daughter too soon is one of my biggest fears. I think about it far too often so when the thoughts creep in I remind myself to be grateful for now. It pushes the thoughts away for a little while.
This brought tears to my eyes. I promise that, God forbid, if anything should happen to you, Lil Bit will know you through your words and through her Nonnie. I love you. Love, Mom
Aw crap, Mom. When you cry, I cry.
I already knew you’d do this. Just wanted to make it “official.” Love you, too.
Twitter: juliahembree
Gorgeous. What beautiful memories you are giving her.
My Dad died when I was just 18. It was far too young to lose a parent and I miss him everyday.
I am so aware of the limited gift of time I will have with my son and I cherish it everyday.
When you do pass, know that you will live on in her heart forever.
Julia’s last awesome post…Naked Toddler
Oh, Julia… I’m so sorry for the loss of your dad at such a young age. While not quite the same paralyzing fear of losing my daughter or her losing me, the inevitability of my parents’ death makes me ache. I simply cannot imagine existing in a world where one or both of them don’t.
And for the last sentence in your comment? Thank you.
Damn, woman! Crying. I read a poem in college about unknowingly passing the anniversary of your death every year and if you DID know the anniversary (date if not year) how would you handle it? it’s always been not too far from my thoughts – wondering what that day is and then wondering if I’d REALLY want to know.
Missy | The Literal Mom’s last awesome post…The Literal Mom Newsletter – Volume 1, Edition 1 – Summer 2012
That? Gave me chills. I’ve never, ever considered death and dying from that perspective, but it’s true!
And I don’t think I’d want to know. No, I definitely wouldn’t.
Having lost my son when he was only 18, the only good thing I can say regarding this is I have no fear of death. None. It will be a mother and child reunion. I don’t seek it out but death instills no power of fear over me anymore.
I’m sorry, Donna. I know nothing I can say will ease the pain of losing Tyler, so I’ll just says what I’ve always said: I’m so sorry.
Twitter: KimberlyAMuro
I have thoughts like this all the time. It shakes me to my core. But the writing? Such a gift.
Kimberly’s last awesome post…Forever Part Of My Heart
I can’t think about it too much for too long or it actually affects my emotional well-being. It definitely affects me in my very core.
Twitter: acctodenise
I know how that feels. I have a strong fear and anxiety of death. Myself and my children. It’s awful. I would also hope that if I were no longer here someone would provide my words to them so they could know more of me.
Denise’s last awesome post…Calm My Crazy: Funny YouTube Videos Perk Me Up
It goes without saying, but it also never hurts to ask. Talk about it with your husband and/or parents. It might seem morbid, but it will also offer peace of mind.
Twitter: KristenPGIP
You just did me in! One of the reasons Chris encouraged me to start this blog was so the people in my life would still have a part of me to hold tightly too…namely my girls. We share so much in our written words and the photos we choose to go with them. It may be morbid to some to think like this but I call it love.
Kristen’s last awesome post…A Birthday Tribute to Shell of Things I Can’t Say
Yes. Love and peace of mind.
Twitter: IASoupMama
Holy cow — I wrote about this same topic this week. Wonder what’s in the air?
IASoupMama’s last awesome post…My Selfish Fear
Twitter: KeAnne
I think about this a lot too and in crazier moments, I justify my blogging as an attempt to leave a record for my son. My FIL died suddenly in 2011 and my husband and his brother were naturally upset about not getting to say goodbye, I love you, etc. I wrote a letter to my son telling him how much we loved him in case something happened on our flight to Florida
KeAnne’s last awesome post…Career Paths Not Taken
Twitter: kristen_alsfm
Beautiful post. As always. You are not alone. I’m “better” now… and very aware of my mortality – but before… in the throws of ppd – the only reason I knew I needed to stay was because Ray couldn’t handle all 3 kids alone. That was how I knew the ppd was way out of control. Now, my mortality is just a wave that flashes through my mind every once in awhile.
kristen’s last awesome post…How to Mother the child when you are not the Mother
Twitter: cyu888
I think about this all the time too and am so very aware of our own mortality. Maybe it’s because my father passed when I was 8 but it’s the exquisite knowledge that death will come. And yes, it will probably be something stupid and mundane. But since becoming a mother, I do have those moments when I will look at my kids and my husband and wonder who will care for them, how will their life move one without me, etc. I hadn’t really thought so much before about how my writing will preserve a piece of me for them – that’s something that I really wish I had from my dad so thank you for that gift.
Christine @ Love, Life, Surf’s last awesome post…Mercedes Maidana: Big Wave Surfer & City Girl
oh. Oh my friend.
I am very afraid of dying. I am afraid that all the things I want to do with my life I won’t finish, I’m afraid of leaving behind my family, that I won’t have all the time I want with the people I love. When my dad died very very suddenly when I was 26 it got worse, this fear of abandonment…this fear of leaving before I’m ready.
I am sad that you are scared of that flight, but I understand the feeling and want to wrap you in a big hug and tell you that you’re not going anywhere. Not yet, I’m NOT ready for that either.
Safe flight and thank you for writing this, of course we’ll bind your stories for that beautiful girl…but we won’t have to.
love you. xo
Kir’s last awesome post…Capturing Memories: Kind & Hopeful
I like to THINK that I have a good perspective on death. I know it is going to happen. But, as far as things go , I’ve been fairly immune to it. Given my age (41), not that many people very close to me have died (which is surprising). A few, but not many. So, I can’t say I’ve been shaken to my core…yet.
That said, you posted a story about a person you knew in high school who lost their child. I can’t even read those. If I know that’s the nature of a story, I don’t look. I don’t even want to think about it.
The point of this rambling is that I think it is natural to think about something that is going to happen. It certainly crosses my mind from time to time – when I see an accident, for example. One of the things I do think about is, “if it were my time, am I going out on a high note. Did I do the right things today?” Can’t say I would always be able to say yes. Not sure it is possible to always be able to say yes either. My goal would be to live up to the famous challenge espoused by Og Mandino: “Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness, and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.”
Can’t say I’ve been good at that. Maybe your post will inspire me to give it another go!
Here by way of Kir…. I’ve been writing a blog since January 2006. Every year, I upload it into Blurb.com, edit it, add pictures, and I have it professionally bound & printed. I give copies to my family, and keep a copy in each of my boys’ memory boxes. It’s their baby books. As well as the story of our lives, before they arrived, and after. You should look into that. I love knowing that these stories are printed (as well as in cyberspace) for my children to have.
I think about this, too, and what I would want for my children and my husband. He is NOT pleased when I talk about it, but I can’t help it.
angela’s last awesome post…Climbing Out of Reactive Parenting
I have almost no perspective on death outside of I don’t want to die, don’t want my loved ones to die, oh my hell, somebody’s gonna die, I’ve gone too long without sadness, my time is coming. My issue is when the thoughts of my demise (or worse, that of my child(ren)) surface, I find it harder and harder to crawl out of that crushingly dark, too small thought hole. I literally shake my head sometimes to make it stop. I redirect my thoughts, play some music, talk about something else. But it’s there, taunting me, a wannabe Gazoo on my shoulder trying to lure my thoughts back in. It is an almost physical experience rather than mental sometimes. I [think] I can feel part of the devastation in my stomach, in a weakness of body at my mind’s mere suggestion of an accident (because of course, accidental might be worse when the what-ifs start).
Yet I can snap out of it and acknowledge that yes, writing has the power to give what we may be unable to do in person. It is a gift alike no other.
Arnebya’s last awesome post…Writer’s Workshop: Fame
This is such a fear of mine. I never was afraid of flying until I had kids. Now, I panic.
Shell’s last awesome post…Pour Your Heart Out: 35 Years
I’ve had the same fears ever since I first became a mother. The thought of my children having to grow up without me or my husband makes me break out in a cold sweat. This is where only my faith gets me through, and I just have to trust that we’ll be here for them as long as they need us.
Patricia P’s last awesome post…Manners Matter
Twitter: Kiddiepoolmommy
These are always the thoughts that haunt us in our dark hours, aren’t they? I have to constantly stop myself from going down that road; it’s too horrible to think about. I’ve had those thoughts about my blog too; it’s sort of a subpurpose of the blog. In case anything ever happens to me, hopefully it will show them I love them.
Jennifer – Treading Water in the Kiddie Pool’s last awesome post…Mangia! Mangia!
Huge fear of mine. I never worried until I had kids. Hugging my babies closer today. xo
tracy@sellabitmum’s last awesome post…Evening News