Back in 2009, I wrote my original "Death Wish" for
my Loss & Grief class on my way to getting my master's in counseling. It
was one of the best classes I ever took, and I've considered, every year,
writing a new one. Things change. Things move. Life is fluid. Granted, the
entirety of the original still stands true, but I feel it's now lacking
substance. It lacks the last few years. So, here goes....
Loose Ends: I’d just like to say…
If you’re reading or hearing this, the house is empty. I’ve moved out and on. If there’s a way to leave a forwarding address for messages I’ll be sure to get that to you, but the truth is that I have no idea where I’ve gone. Perhaps I’m in heaven. Perhaps not. Maybe my energy will manifest as a plant. Maybe the dirt. Maybe the worm. Or maybe music? Or art? Then again, there are so many people I could happily haunt. My ghost will--BOO--jump out of your Cheerios and giggle when you squirt milk out of your nose. I’m just kidding folks. I won’t hide in your breakfast, but if there’s a way, I’ll visit just to check on you and show you that I’m alright.
Wherever I am, I sincerely hope you remember me with imperfect fondness. I have decided that I don’t really believe much in perfection. Life’s more interesting and sincere without that weight to bear. However, I hope that people who remember me—as well as those who meet me through your memories—won’t judge me by my tattoos, my poor choices, the many mistakes and wrong turns I made, or my poor spelling (spell check is both a blessing and curse!). I hope that I led a life that made my family and friends proud. I hope that I did something, however small, that spread some good in the world. I also want my friends and family to know that they inspired me to be a better person. They are the super glue that connects everything. They should know that they are responsible for my belief in angels, because they are angels walking the earth. I would start naming you all right now, but that would take way too long. So instead, just look around you and don’t forget to know, deep in your heart, that you’re an angel too. Thank you. I love you.
I did a lot of things while I was alive. To an extent, each stint and experience suggested to some that I was a flake, incapable of committing to anything and, perhaps, unable to find happiness; and, to an extent, there’s some truth to that. I had been a flake and overly noncommittal at times; but I enjoyed sampling what life had to offer. I found happiness in new beginnings. I wanted to try a little of everything, and while, because of this, it took me longer to find a suitable long-term path for myself, I ended up in a great place on a colorful journey. Ironically, P, you helped me learn stability and commitment. I am sincerely thankful to you for that. I’d like to think that all my detours opened my heart and mind, allowing me to love more deeply and live more fully.
Angelface, I loved the person I thought you were more deeply than I ever thought I could love anyone. It was a gut-wrenching lesson, but thank you for teaching me to love without losing myself and to hurt without hating. Thank you for teaching me to set boundaries and defend myself. I only regret that my boundaries weren't more firm until after you took my trust for granted, familiarizing me with unnecessary shame and fear. That being said, I take with me to my grave many sadnesses about abuse, pain, and withered dreams, but I'm eternally grateful for the the difficult lessons learned. I wish you happiness and healing.
Loose Ends: I’d just like to say…
If you’re reading or hearing this, the house is empty. I’ve moved out and on. If there’s a way to leave a forwarding address for messages I’ll be sure to get that to you, but the truth is that I have no idea where I’ve gone. Perhaps I’m in heaven. Perhaps not. Maybe my energy will manifest as a plant. Maybe the dirt. Maybe the worm. Or maybe music? Or art? Then again, there are so many people I could happily haunt. My ghost will--BOO--jump out of your Cheerios and giggle when you squirt milk out of your nose. I’m just kidding folks. I won’t hide in your breakfast, but if there’s a way, I’ll visit just to check on you and show you that I’m alright.
Wherever I am, I sincerely hope you remember me with imperfect fondness. I have decided that I don’t really believe much in perfection. Life’s more interesting and sincere without that weight to bear. However, I hope that people who remember me—as well as those who meet me through your memories—won’t judge me by my tattoos, my poor choices, the many mistakes and wrong turns I made, or my poor spelling (spell check is both a blessing and curse!). I hope that I led a life that made my family and friends proud. I hope that I did something, however small, that spread some good in the world. I also want my friends and family to know that they inspired me to be a better person. They are the super glue that connects everything. They should know that they are responsible for my belief in angels, because they are angels walking the earth. I would start naming you all right now, but that would take way too long. So instead, just look around you and don’t forget to know, deep in your heart, that you’re an angel too. Thank you. I love you.
I did a lot of things while I was alive. To an extent, each stint and experience suggested to some that I was a flake, incapable of committing to anything and, perhaps, unable to find happiness; and, to an extent, there’s some truth to that. I had been a flake and overly noncommittal at times; but I enjoyed sampling what life had to offer. I found happiness in new beginnings. I wanted to try a little of everything, and while, because of this, it took me longer to find a suitable long-term path for myself, I ended up in a great place on a colorful journey. Ironically, P, you helped me learn stability and commitment. I am sincerely thankful to you for that. I’d like to think that all my detours opened my heart and mind, allowing me to love more deeply and live more fully.
Angelface, I loved the person I thought you were more deeply than I ever thought I could love anyone. It was a gut-wrenching lesson, but thank you for teaching me to love without losing myself and to hurt without hating. Thank you for teaching me to set boundaries and defend myself. I only regret that my boundaries weren't more firm until after you took my trust for granted, familiarizing me with unnecessary shame and fear. That being said, I take with me to my grave many sadnesses about abuse, pain, and withered dreams, but I'm eternally grateful for the the difficult lessons learned. I wish you happiness and healing.
Sunshine, thank you. More than you might ever realize, you helped rebuild trust, hope, and love in the midst of an enormous paradigm shift. Thank you for being so wonderfully, genuinely, lovingly you.
Chickens, Faces, and Wedgies, words will never be enough to express my gratitude for you. I'm overwhelmed thinking about you all. You are amazing, dynamic, beautiful, inspiring people.
Anyhow, had my life been significantly longer, I’m sure I would’ve taken a few more turns for the better and the worse—I had dreams of someday living sustainably and hosting travelers from all over the world in some kind of inn/hostel/farm—but I’m content with where I left off. I was doing what I loved and I was surrounded by wonderful people. I found joy in friends, family, work, and all of life's abundant adventure and tranquility. When it comes down to it, besides all the losses, setbacks, doubts, mistakes, and pains that are inevitable, life was profoundly good.
I turned 33 this year. Wow. That’s pretty young to be dead already, huh? Mom, Dad: you’re probably thinking this is all backwards and I wasn’t supposed to go before you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to feel all of this hurt and try to make sense of something that will never seem right. If I could have, I would have waited, but, as it is, I couldn’t and I led a really full life. I did my best to live colorfully and fully in the time that I had, so I hope I’ve left you with plenty of memories to make you smile when you think of me—I at least would like to think that the good ones outweigh the not-so-good ones! That was a joke, but only sort of. I know I wasn’t perfect, and I caused you a lot of pain and frustration, and I’m sorry for that.
Dad and Mom, you both played very significant roles in contributing to who I was and what was important to me. From both of you I learned to value honesty, independence, education, decorum, manners, laughter, positivity, and healthy living. From you, Mom, I learned to value nurturance, stability, responsibility, tact, dependability, commitment, work ethic and loyalty. You were my rock and my safe place, and you scared the crap out of us all last year. Honestly, that was a good kick in the pants not to take you for granted. Dad, you taught me the value of creativity, spontaneity, adventure, and questioning of the status quo. You were my wings. I imagine, had I lived longer, we'd have found a way to work through our differences and speak again. Anyway, thank you both for everything that you are. There was no doubt a lot of overlap in what you each taught me, and I’m so proud to have had you as my parents.
Q, I’m so proud of you. You were always my hero, and I can't even begin to express to you how much your support meant to me in rough times. I really hope it'll be your beautiful family's Cheerios that I get to hide in. I love your wife. She is definitely family in my little book. And maybe I can be the Monsters' invisible friend!
Now that all that’s said, to whom it may concern, please don’t take up precious land space with what used to be me. I’m not there anymore so please cremate my old body. I obviously don’t need it anymore. Then, throw the ashes in a river, a lake, an ocean, a mountain, to the wind… whatever! Well, maybe not whatever. Not that I think you’d do this, but I’d appreciate not being thrown in the cat box or down the commode. Just saying…. Some kind of little ceremony with some good food and good music to bring people together would be nice.
Also, with regard to dress code, give me a break on the black. Feel free to wear it—maybe that’s your thing—but throw in something colorful and/or glittery/sequiny/shiny. Something festive or funny. I know you’re grieving right now, and that’s quite all right because, wherever I am, I miss you too. Cry all you want and need to. Anyone who knows me well knows that I’d be crying too. A lot. I’m crying while I write this, for goodness sake! I suppose what I’m saying is this: my death is sad. There’s no reason to treat it like it’s not; but my life was good and fun and colorful. Mourn my death, but please celebrate my life.
Anyhow, had my life been significantly longer, I’m sure I would’ve taken a few more turns for the better and the worse—I had dreams of someday living sustainably and hosting travelers from all over the world in some kind of inn/hostel/farm—but I’m content with where I left off. I was doing what I loved and I was surrounded by wonderful people. I found joy in friends, family, work, and all of life's abundant adventure and tranquility. When it comes down to it, besides all the losses, setbacks, doubts, mistakes, and pains that are inevitable, life was profoundly good.
I turned 33 this year. Wow. That’s pretty young to be dead already, huh? Mom, Dad: you’re probably thinking this is all backwards and I wasn’t supposed to go before you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to feel all of this hurt and try to make sense of something that will never seem right. If I could have, I would have waited, but, as it is, I couldn’t and I led a really full life. I did my best to live colorfully and fully in the time that I had, so I hope I’ve left you with plenty of memories to make you smile when you think of me—I at least would like to think that the good ones outweigh the not-so-good ones! That was a joke, but only sort of. I know I wasn’t perfect, and I caused you a lot of pain and frustration, and I’m sorry for that.
Dad and Mom, you both played very significant roles in contributing to who I was and what was important to me. From both of you I learned to value honesty, independence, education, decorum, manners, laughter, positivity, and healthy living. From you, Mom, I learned to value nurturance, stability, responsibility, tact, dependability, commitment, work ethic and loyalty. You were my rock and my safe place, and you scared the crap out of us all last year. Honestly, that was a good kick in the pants not to take you for granted. Dad, you taught me the value of creativity, spontaneity, adventure, and questioning of the status quo. You were my wings. I imagine, had I lived longer, we'd have found a way to work through our differences and speak again. Anyway, thank you both for everything that you are. There was no doubt a lot of overlap in what you each taught me, and I’m so proud to have had you as my parents.
Q, I’m so proud of you. You were always my hero, and I can't even begin to express to you how much your support meant to me in rough times. I really hope it'll be your beautiful family's Cheerios that I get to hide in. I love your wife. She is definitely family in my little book. And maybe I can be the Monsters' invisible friend!
Now that all that’s said, to whom it may concern, please don’t take up precious land space with what used to be me. I’m not there anymore so please cremate my old body. I obviously don’t need it anymore. Then, throw the ashes in a river, a lake, an ocean, a mountain, to the wind… whatever! Well, maybe not whatever. Not that I think you’d do this, but I’d appreciate not being thrown in the cat box or down the commode. Just saying…. Some kind of little ceremony with some good food and good music to bring people together would be nice.
Also, with regard to dress code, give me a break on the black. Feel free to wear it—maybe that’s your thing—but throw in something colorful and/or glittery/sequiny/shiny. Something festive or funny. I know you’re grieving right now, and that’s quite all right because, wherever I am, I miss you too. Cry all you want and need to. Anyone who knows me well knows that I’d be crying too. A lot. I’m crying while I write this, for goodness sake! I suppose what I’m saying is this: my death is sad. There’s no reason to treat it like it’s not; but my life was good and fun and colorful. Mourn my death, but please celebrate my life.
On that note, I encourage you to continue celebrating your own and everyone else’s life too. I can’t work on these things for myself anymore, but I see the value in them, so here you go: Try new things. Quit worrying (like I too often did) so much about getting it wrong. Create. Eat. Hug the people you love. Don’t be stingy with love—it comes in plenty of forms and you never have to run out if you keep your heart and mind open. Easier said than done, I know. Talk to each other. Take care of each other. Be kind and honest and accountable—with others and yourself. Apologize. Forgive. Feel. Play. Sing. Dance! Slow dance, line dance, two step, one step, salsa, merengue, bomba, hand jive, dirty dance, crunk dance, chicken dance, ANY dance. Just dance. Rhythm (or lack there of) is beside the point. Just experience life. I believe you can create profound meaning in the context of how you live. You already did it for me, so keep going.
And I’ll end there, except for this. Here is a little playlist for you. Each of these songs has touched me at some point—made me smile, made me sing, made me dance, or reminded me of people, places, times, or ideas I’ve cared about (or I just thought they’d be cool to play at a memorial service!). There are many more—MANY more, but these seem pretty good to start:
I’ll fly away (Alison Krauss, Gillian Welch), Threadbare Gypsy Soul (Pat Green), I’m Comin’ Home (Robert Earl Keen), Friends in Low Places (Garth Brooks), Try Me, Get up off of that Thing (James Brown), Video (India Arie), Dublin Blues (Guy Clark, Peter Rowan), Get it Together (Beastie Boys), Waiting on an Angel (Ben Harper), She Talks to Angels (Black Crows), Change (Blind Melon), One Love (Bob Marley), anything from Buena Vista Social Club, On & On (Erykah Badu), That’s Life (Frank Sinatra), Proud Mary, Let the Good Times Roll (Ike and Tina Turner), Waiting on the World to Change, Say (John Mayer), I Hope You Dance (Lee Ann Womack), Ain’t So Lonely (Lucero), Just Fine (Mary J. Blige), Say Hey (Michael Franti & Spearhead & Cherine Anderson), Cancion del Mariachi (Los Lobos & Antonio Banderas), Ya Viene el Sol, Dos Cosas Ciertas (Ozomatli), Trouble (Ray LaMontagne), Into the Mystic (Van Morrison), and Angelface's song.
And now, help yourself to the dessert bar....
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