Paula, Ruby & Violet Burkholder - year unknown
Why must so many things I write of late be somehow relate to death? Even I myself am getting tired of it. "Sick to death" of it, even. Yet, death continues to encroach on my life, my psyche, and thus my writing.
My aunt Paula, a woman I admire, whose presence has become more impactful over the past few years, Passed away last night. She had battled brain cancer over at least a decade, I believe, including at least two "successful" surgeries, yet the battle continued through a recent bout that came to this inevitable conclusion.
When I visited her home in New Mexico in mid-2018, along with my cousin/her daughter Jeri, we had some wonderful conversations. She lived very comfortable in her own skin and in a spiritual manner. She was down to earth, balancing optimism with realistic expectations. She seemed to be well aware of and resolved with her own mortality. We talked openly about it and our shared views of life as a learning opportunity and experience. Paula lived a long live filled with highs and lows, passions and transitions. She endured losses during her lifetime that nobody should, including the violent suicide of an artist yet troubled ex-husband, as well as the recent medical decline and death of one of her children. She lived through a few situations that are certainly well beyond those we might typically encounter during our lifetimes.
Paula's last surgery, about a month or so back, left her in a good deal of pain. Jeri instinctively chose to fly to New Mexico from the east coast in order to see her mom when she sensed that Paula was struggling, and she instinctively chose to set aside the quarantine waiting period, getting tested instead and then going to her moms house a couple of days earlier than planned. She trusted her gut. Had Jeri waited, her opportunity to be with her mom and to have assisted, comforted and communicated her love and appreciation for her in these final days might not have happened.
I'm grateful she followed her gut. I'm also grateful she was there to convey my appreciation and gratitude to Paula, on my behalf and through recordings I sent. And I am extremely grateful that there appears to be something instinctual in her DNA, something that is hopefully in my DNA as well.
Experiences and memories are greater gifts than any material objects. Paula was kind enough to incorporate both through the simple open-hearted discussions of her thoughts and perspectives, which she shared with me on a few phone calls and during my visit, as well as sending me the gift of two books, one of which I assume, by its condition, to have come from her personal library. That, or a used bookstore. Her gifts of time, thoughts and ideas have been inspirational and informative in my assessments of myself and of the world around me. I will carry a fragment of her spirit throughout my life and pass it on in a similar fashion when given the opportunities to do so.
So, here I am, writing about death, again. It's brushed past me once more. I lament that the road ahead will inevitably bring increasing exposure to it, until that death is my own. The measure of my life, as I see it, will be my (hopefully positive) impact on the people around me. I feel drawn to try and live conscious of my own mortality and the limited time, that unknown duration, that I have to make the most of it in.
The demands and pace of daily existence in a western society don't allow enough time for the level of navel gazing and mantra chanting that seem necessary for one to really "walk the earth" with their eyes truly wide open. Taking in the beauty and wonder that each day and experience can contain is like trying to stay completely in tune with the whole 'floating plastic bag' scene in American Beauty… for hours on end. There are so many things pulling at us, daily, from every direction. There are established routines, social agreements and surface encounters that exist in the majority of our relationships as well. My days are filled with situations that challenge me to engage with sincere and conscious presence or react with an impulsive reflex response.
Paula's influence gave me a sounding board in these past few years when I needed one, as well as ideas and observations that have helped me find a slightly smoother path towards being as capable as she seemed to be, accepting things as they are, looking for what you can learn from and apply going forward, and recognizing the only control you have over anything, is how you respond to it. That's something that even in her passing, she's helping me embrace.