My friend Christina shared this post on Facebook a couple weeks ago about terminally ill patients living out their final wishes. It’s like the Make-a-Wish Foundation, which grants wishes for sick children, but for older patients.
It’s one of those pieces that gently shakes you up and makes all the silly, petty things disappear for a moment and puts the real, important things in perspective. What kind of things do older people wish for after they have lived for decades and can have one final experience?
To visit the zoo.
To sit in the sun and wind and smell the water.
To enjoy a delicious ice cream cone.
These are all things I literally have on the schedule for this week. Not even kidding. And while I’m generally looking forward to them, it makes my heart feel all sorts of melty, squishy, sad and happy to think that any one of these simple pleasures could be The One Moment I wish I could return to in 50 years.
There were several poignant examples of dying wishes, but here’s the one that has stuck with me the most:
Veldboer, in an interview with the BBC, describes one woman who had not been home for six months. When they brought her into her living room on a stretcher, she hoisted herself up and stayed there for hours, doing nothing but looking around — likely replaying an entire lifetime worth of memories — before quietly asking them to take her away.
Do you know where I spend most of my life these days?
My living room. I get on the floor and build with my daughter. I sit on the couch and read books with her. I lie down and do tummy time with my son. I clean it. We eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner in that space, and when we have friends over, we snack at the table and relax on the couches there.
Most of the time, I don’t think anything of it. It just happens to be the space where life happens to happen. I have never thought of it as a sacred space until now.
At this moment, as my children sleep in their rooms and I relish in my few hours of down time, I can’t help but replay memories of my spunky toddler racing into the living room with her favorite book, little feet pounding and hair flying. I can’t help but smile as I think about my baby son’s hearty laughter when my husband lifted him in the air. My heart is happy as I think of the friends that came by today, bearing food and smiles and hugs and love. So much love happens in that space, yet most of the time I mindlessly move from one scene to the next: playing, cleaning, eating, laughing, reading. It’s just how life is right now- go, go, go, rest, sleep, repeat.
But someday, I know I would give anything to go back in time and stare in the face of that little girl with the smiling eyes, hear her delighted squeals and tickle her little toddler belly. Someday, I’ll wish I could coo at my baby son and squeeze his thick baby rolls and make him laugh while doing something as mundane as changing a diaper. Someday, that would mean so much more to me than traveling to new countries or eating at a fancy restaurant or any number of things I sometimes wish for in this day to day life.
It makes my heart ache, and it makes my heart glad. I always read stuff like this because I think it’s too easy to get caught up in the day to day and lose sight of the important things. It’s too easy to dwell on the things that went awry rather than the things we love. It’s too easy to just go, go, go, and then sleep and repeat. But I don’t want to wake up one day and kick myself for not treasuring these precious days full of energy, love, and life.
Sometimes, it just a matter of finding a different way to look at the everyday.
This week, we are going
To visit the zoo.
To sit in the sun and wind and smell the water.
To enjoy a delicious ice cream cone.
3 responses to “Learning from Last Wishes”
Meet JoEllen
Subscribe via Email
Top Posts & Pages
Categories
Oh, I love reading your entries. Thanks for sharing:)
Yes, sometimes, it’s just a matter of finding a different way to look at the everyday.
Love this <3
Thank you for such a beautiful reminder!