You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘belongingness’ tag.

The amazing baby shower!

Hello, dear readers of Last Year to Live.

This month marks a year since my one year to live project came to an end.  And a year since my close childhood friend Marisa died of metastatic breast cancer.

I continue to be grateful for everyone who came along with me on this writing journey and for all of the comments – some on the blog, but many more off-line – that kept me inspired throughout that year.  The number one lesson I learned is that engaging in the topic of death unequivocally made me live life more fully.

I have some good news to share!  I’ve just come back from Marisa’s brother & sister-in-law’s baby shower.  Marisa would have been an amazing aunt to this little one, and I like to imagine her smiling at all of us.   The holidays will be a little easier this year.

On my end, because I’ve been missing the brightness of life lived through the lens of writing, I’ve launched a new blog called Beyond Siri’s Grasp.  I hope you’ll sign up for new posts by email or RSS on the top left side of the new blog.  (Unfortunately I can’t transfer your email over automatically, but if you’d prefer, send me an okay and I’ll enter it by hand for you.)

I look forward to seeing you there!

(If you are coming to this Year to Live blog for the first time, consider reading through it in chronological order, starting with the post on February 10, 2010.)

Thank you for reading!

All my best,

Barbara

Living it up with homemade skis

“Dying is easy, comedy is hard.”  I love the old saying because it captures perfectly the paradox of lightness in our lives.

Laughter and smiles seem somehow foundational to our humanity, but sometimes it feels like too much of an effort to live with a sense of buoyancy.

I spent the past couple of days noting how often my children laugh.  They’re awesome at it (most of the time).   Giggles turn into cracking up, which turns into unstoppable belly laughs.  And just when you think they’re done, it starts all over again.

I am woefully far behind them.

In this last year, I want to recapture this sense of lightness.  I want to be amazed by subtlety, and to be reminded not to take this waning life too seriously.

We’re trying a little experiment in our house this week.  Can we make at least 3 people smile each day (not counting each other)?

Today we made an old lady walking down our street smile from ear to ear,  simply by smiling at her and saying hello.

When she had passed far enough behind, we high-fived each over, feeling  intoxicated by the connection.

Share

349 Days Remain

Deb and I have known each other for nearly 30 years.

When you know someone that long, you begin to turn into sisters.

If all of my goodbyes are as hard as this one, I’ll drown in a sea of tears before my final year is out.

I wrote these words in my journal the first night of my visit with Deb and her open-hearted partner, Sven.  I’d flown out to San Francisco so we could spend a final weekend together.  Having had another close friend go through a “Year to Live” project, they immediately understood why this trip was packed with such meaning.

“So what do you want to do with this time together? ” Deb asked pointedly.

All I wanted was to simply be together – preferably in nature.  And if I could get up close with a majestic redwood before I said farewell to California too, all the better.

With the weather gods on our side, we set out each morning.  Cherry trees were blossoming in February, and we spent hours wandering the trails along the dramatic coast line.

Mostly I spent the time feeling overwhelmingly grateful for our years of closeness.  We hugged a lot.  We acted silly, frolicking near the water’s edge.  We ate amazing local breads and cheeses (hey – why worry about cholesterol when you’re dying!), and sipped fresh brewed teas.  The three of us talked late into the night about life and life’s work, fighting waves of exhaustion to keep the conversation going.

When it came time for our farewell, I realized that my welling tears were more about the preciousness of our bond than a craving for its continuity.

Deb pressed a bright blue glass talisman from Sven’s recent trip to Turkey into my hand as we said goodbye in the BART station on Mission Street.

“It’s for protection on this journey, Barb, ” she said.

I love you so much, dear Deb.  Thank you for adding beauty to my days.

Share

Enter your email address to follow "Last Year to Live" and receive new posts via your in-box.

Follow me on Twitter

VOTY Reader

Archives

A journey inspired by