Hard question...

... for Knots in the String.

“Who do I want to be on the day that I die?”

A question that comes from Diana Strinati Baur from this post.

the beauty that is aging

Such a hard question because it requires me to scour my heart and soul, go beyond skin-deep sparkle lists. At the age of nearly 73, I’m on the downhill slide. Each day is one day closer; and in one’s seventies, end of life is short point confrontational.

I think of my mother and who she was when she died at almost 90. She tried hard to continue to be what she had always been, but she struggled because of her physical limitations. Mum’s life revolved around fiercely independent activity – being a good mother and grandmother into the bargain. So to be reduced by awful physical circumstance changed her outlook, reducing her joy of life significantly.

I think one can have the best intentions in the world of being something out of the ordinary when one dies, but the truth is that there are so many variables that can change what one might choose to be. It’s a lesson worth remembering.

I went to a close friend’s wake last weekend. It was a small event, his dearest friends invited to share in memories and a scattering of his ashes. There were tears but there was also a profound and tangible sense of love emanating from the thirty people in his and his husband’s garden. I remember saying to a friend afterward, that I hoped my family and friends would remember me with such love. It was that statement that gave me a possible answer to the question Baur asked.

But before I reveal my thoughts…

Doing:

Finding immense intellectual satisfaction in reading Chicken Scratch, Everyone Else is Taken, Rootsie, Tom Ryan Author and Baur Studio, all on Substack.

Have almost finished Charles III by Robert Hardman, which has continued to be a fascinating read on such an historic time in our Commonwealth.

On audio, listening to Richard Armitage’s new thriller, The Cut. Terrifying because it deals with teenage bullying. I think of my innocent little grandson growing up in such a potentially hostile environment and I shiver with fear…

Thus it’s been a joy to dance to Einaudi’s Experience

at the ballet studio, despite a resting knee from the n-Stride needle, and a core that is still tender from winter’s medical excavations. The music is gently wave-like, the choreography pretty without being twee.

But there are movements like a pas de bourré piqué that my knee rebels against, or a full stretch of the arm to something like 4^th position that doesn’t happen because of the hefty scar tissue and healing nerve endings in my belly. So I must do the best I can under the circumstances and hope I’m forgiven.

Whilst I listen to the audio of the BBC’s Unforgotten on TV, I concentrate on stitching more of the heron’s head with silver passing thread. The challenge is phenomenal, and I know when I finish this piece that there will be a level of satisfaction because I’ve run so far from metal threadwork for many years.

Husband has dug out the agapanthus from three sides of the cottage and I’ve planned the new gardens. I’d hoped to plant the first one out this weekend, but we’re expecting 10 degrees, with snow down to 200 metres, rain, hail and knowing Tasmania these days, winds that scour the brain cavity clean! Still, we’ve had a few mild days with no coat or jacket required and lambs continue to drop and live! Are we up to 500? Possibly…

The new lambkins have paired themselves beautifully with the appearance of hoop petticoat daffodils in the garden and the most delicious orange super parrot tulips. It’s a wooly, floral blessing.

And so to my answer to the intense question of who I might want to be when I die. I try so very hard to take each day as it comes with no preconceived notions. Not to be anything particularly. Except perhaps calm, honest, courageous and loving. To be mindful of what surrounds me because there’s something remarkable even in a mote of dust, let alone the whole immensity of the natural world.

You know, it shouldn’t really be about who I want to be when I die at all. Life should never be about the I. Not if one wants to be fulfilled. If one has lived a humble, kind life, concentrating on others, then it brings its own reward. Love. Just like the emotion drifting through David’s and Gavan’s garden last weekend. So if it’s about being anything, its about love and being loved. And that’s my answer.

It’s enough…

Song for this week?