When you know it is the last time
Last weekend, I went on a midway ride with my grandson. He’s beside me on The Scrambler if you look closely at the photo. It was a classic example of saying yes before I thought through any of the logistics and consequences of the decision.
It’s not easy climbing into these rides, something I didn’t consider until standing in front of it. I haven’t been on rides since my kids were young. I forgot how dizzy and sick I felt after spinning around and around. My daughter managed to snap the photo when she wasn’t laughing at me.
Here’s the thing. Once I got off (with assistance from the lovely ride operator), stumbled to the exit and got my balance back, I decided it was my last ride. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone about what I can or cannot handle as I push up against 65. I’m willing to call it a day on midway rides. Go ahead and judge me.
I have been thinking about The Last Midway Ride. We don’t always know when we experienced something for the last time in our lives. I talked to someone recently about the day my dad was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia. The doctor took away his license on the spot. Driving to that appointment was the last time he would be behind the wheel. He had no idea.
Endings are a part of our lives. Whether we choose to end something or have an ending thrust upon us, we find ourselves at a crossroads. We are a different person when something ends. It can be as inconsequential as no longer being a person who will go on rides with her grandchildren, or it can be life-altering like losing your license.
People often say, “Live today as if it were your last day.” It’s a great sentiment, but it isn’t very practical. If I knew today was my last day, would I be sending an email? I doubt it. I would be with my people consuming lots of calories.
And then there is the ending of all endings - death. Facing it is part of the spiritual journey of the wise elder. When I was diagnosed with melanoma, I was afraid of dying. I wasn’t ready and didn’t want to think about it. Something has shifted in me in the last few years. I’ve become aware that the more prepared I am to die, the more freedom I experience to live my life now. It’s also helped me to make better choices in my life.
Summer is the time when we tend to turn off and tune out. I understand. I look forward to relaxing with a few good novels in the next few weeks of vacation. I’ll leave you with two questions to ponder between the patios and pool parties. You don’t even have to take any action. Just think about them.
What would you like to end? What is your Midway Ride?
Have you embraced your mortality?
Enjoy the beach this summer and please where sunscreen!
Summer Reading Recommendations
And just in case you want to think more about endings and mortality here are a few books to consider:
A Year to Live: How to Live This Year As If It Were Your Last by Stephen Levine. This book would make an interesting book club project!
Die Wise: A Manifest for Sanity and Soul by Stephen Jenkinson This Canadian author has tackled what he calls the ‘death industry.’ I’ve read several of his books and have come away wiser for my time.
Managing Transitions: Making the Most of Change by William Bridges. I’ve read and taught this material so many times! We are always in transition in our lives. We can credit William Bridges with the idea that transitions start with letting go of something. I have the 2nd edition, now in the 4th edition - a sign of an enduring book.
And if you want to read something a little lighter between dips in the lake, here are a couple of books I’ve enjoyed:
The Secret Life of Flora Lea by Patti Callahan Henry.This book captured my imagination. This story is inspired by the Pied Piper Project - the relocation of children during the second world war.
Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. I’ve read this book almost every summer since I discovered it in a box of discarded books at a monastery in Lumsden, Saskatchewan.
These are Amazon links, and I am an affiliate. I always suggest you try and find these books locally first.