Some reasons to be missed…

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
‘Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I’m done here?

 

From the moment I first heard it, this song, from the movie “Twilight”, captured my soul.  Haunting words and music that run through my mind as I rush through these golden years frantically trying to put my little world in order.

I don’t know if it’s just me, at this stage of my life, wondering about what I’ll leave behind.  Not material things, mind you, but the quality of memories in the minds of those closest to me, the people I’ve loved in my lifetime.

So much of what we speak about, on an almost daily basis, involves time; never having enough of it and painfully watching it speed past us with each passing year.

I worry about the mistakes I’ve made which might overshadow any of the positive things I’ve accomplished.  Let’s face it, when someone dies, everyone gathers to celebrate that departed life, in some fashion.  And then, time passes, softening the sorrow and sentimental imagery.  Painful thoughts, like sharp pricks of a pin, bring reminders of unhappy times, causing people to deliberately not think about that name engraved on a slab of marble.  That name, which once represented a loving human being, all too often, ends up being forgotten in a crowded field of hallowed ground.

We clean out our closets and attics, ridding ourselves of needless accumulations.  As our mortality stares back at us in a mirror, we rush to mend broken family fences or renew old friendships, keeping a wary eye on that mystical hourglass of time.  Why don’t we have this fear when we’re young enough to change things and mold our lives in a more positive direction?  This so-called wisdom we achieve in later life could be put to so much better use when there is an expanse of time still to be enjoyed…and fulfilled.

I want to be remembered, not with tears but with smiles.  Spare me any resentment, please don’t allow my memory to harbor thoughts of anger or emptiness; any of this would mean that my time on earth was wasted.

For now, I’m working very hard on some reasons to be missed.

 

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest

 

 

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From Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop....Writing Prompts for January 9, 2020Take a line from a song you love and turn it into the title of your next blog post.  I cheated a bit here, no, make that more than just “a bit”.  This post was first written a little over six years ago and shared again for another response.  As they say, the melody lingers on and the words, the thoughts, still apply. There isn’t another song I love more.
 

 

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Things we leave behind…

 

 

As I stuck my hand into the half-empty box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I thought back to their visit which ended all too soon.  Back and forth texts with my daughter prior to their arrival gave me ideas on favorite food items for my two Grandsons.  This crunchy cereal was one and a nice departure from the Cheerios that always take up space in our pantry.  I made a mental note to myself to keep a box of this sugary sweetness on my grocery list from now on.  It was also a pleasant flashback; I visualized my Jake and Jaden sitting at our breakfast table, waiting for my morning hugs and kisses.

Visits with my Florida family inevitably bring about those necessary conversations that most of us have with our children, especially as we see our years slowly winding down.  Yes, I know, that’s what Wills are for but all of that legalese is nothing more than a road map which directs our loved ones over the things we leave behind; a cold, emotionless group of 8 1/2 by 14 inch pages which are an accounting of someone’s life.  Yet, without this paperwork, those conversations or scribbled notes tucked in a drawer which involve promises of just who will get this or that, often end up resulting in heated disputes.  The result?  Family members end up retreating behind a permanent wall of separation which was never the intent of the departed loved one.  Been there, done that with my late in-laws, do not want to repeat it!

Jen and I talked endlessly about stuff, my stuff.  I was adamant on how each of my children must share equally in the collections, memorabilia, jewelry, all precious to me and things I want my family to treasure and pass down for generations that will follow.   Boxes in the attic that will be opened each holiday season and have my family remember a story behind each Christmas ornament.  Cookware that my Grandchildren will use and remember when Gramma had their favorite meal simmering slowly on the stove. We walked through my home where I pointed out various items and shared the story behind each one.  Timeless pieces of jewelry that my two daughters will wear and lovingly pass down to their children.  Neatly labeled photographs that chronicle our beginnings as a family and others that survived being discarded during my late mother’s journey through Alzheimer’s.  And, of course, we had that conversation.  The uncomfortable one about what to do with me when I stop being…me.  Simple.  My philosophy is to leave the land to the living.  Just put me into something vintage and decorative.  Don’t scatter me over any body of water.  I can’t swim.

In my heart I know how overwhelmed my kids will be at some point in the future as they wade through years of memories and I so want each of them to hold on to all that was important to me and have it remain part of their lives, of their traditions.  Of course, my wishes, and my husband’s, will be outlined over an almost cryptic series of pages but I want my children to remember our present day special talks that will help them read between some specialized legal language.

Mostly, I want those I’ve loved so dearly to always remember that, while there might be far better things than any we leave behind, every memory that is packed away in some box, resting on a shelf or in a cabinet, belongs to them.  And, a note I’ve left tucked between the pages of a book, well, that will be a reminder to enjoy all the stuff that made me their Mom!

                                                    

                                                                  

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Leave out all the rest

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
‘Cause no one else cared
After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I’m done here?
So if you’re asking me
I want you to know
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest

From the moment I first heard it in the movie theater, this song, “Leave Out All The Rest” from “Twilight”, captured my soul.  Haunting words and music that run through my mind as I rush through these golden years frantically trying to put my little world in order.

I don’t know if it’s just me, at this stage of my life, wondering about what I’ll leave behind.  Not material things, mind you, but the quality of memories in the minds of those closest to me, the people I’ve loved in my lifetime.

So much of what we speak about, on an almost daily basis, involves time.  It seems we never have enough of it and painfully watch as it speeds past us with each passing year.

I worry about the mistakes I’ve made which might overshadow any of the positive things I’ve accomplished.  Let’s face it, when someone dies, everyone gathers to celebrate that departed life, in some fashion.  And then, time passes, softening the sorrow and sentimental imagery.  Painful thoughts, like sharp pricks of a pin, bring reminders of unhappy times, causing people to deliberately not think about that name engraved on a slab of marble.  That name, which once represented a loving human being, all too often, ends up being forgotten in a crowded field of hallowed ground.

We clean out our closets and attics, ridding ourselves of needless accumulations.  As our mortality stares back at us in some mirror, we rush to mend broken family fences or renew old friendships, keeping a wary eye on that mystical hourglass of time.  Why don’t we have this fear when we’re young enough to change things and mold our lives in a more positive direction?  This so-called wisdom we achieve in later life could be put to so much better use when there is an expanse of time still to be enjoyed…and fulfilled.

I want to be remembered, not with tears but with smiles.  Spare me any resentment and not allow my memory to harbor thoughts of anger or emptiness.  Any of this would mean that my time on earth was wasted.

For now, I’m working very hard on reasons to be missed.

 

workshop-button-1…a prompt from Mama Kat’s Workshop…What song would you choose as your anthem? Why? 

An anthem, typically, is a song of praise, or gladness but can also reflect a point-of-view.   This song did just that when I first wrote this post a while back.  Still does.   A reflection of my life and feelings.  Enough said.

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