I have a few elderly folks in my life who often preface their remarks with "I only have a few years left to go" as if to legitimize what they have to say next. This manner of speech grows very old very soon. The said person was using the same line for a couple of decades now and they are still here whereas their contemporaries are not. I have the habit of playing forward to my last day (assuming I have my wits about me to even recognize such is the case) to see if the thing I am losing my mind over right this minute is warranted.
Would it matter that day, a year before that a decade before that and so on. Almost always the answer is no. Almost nothing I have been upset about in the moment has ever met the bar so the decision to let it go is easier. There are items on the list, where I have work to do, make things right as much as possible so if a stray thought floats to my head that day about an item on that list, I can rest knowing its been checked off. That list is rather long and more likely than not, there will remain things in it that are not checked off.
Reading this post by someone who for sure has only about a year left to live as sobering and also thought-provoking. This line in particular was deeply meaningful for me - It turns out that at the end of the road, the things that really mattered were good times with friends and family, And these were almost all in the kitchen.
The people I have lost in my life and continue to miss are often defined by food they liked or things they cooked. How much they enjoyed a particular dish or when they were invited home, we made sure what they loved best was on the table. As in life, so in death. Food is very much a part of the funeral rituals and then in the years after, that still is the way to think about a loved one who had died. Their life accomplishments almost never come to mind.
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