An Open Letter To My Children

To my children...

I am going to die soon. Likely not today or tomorrow. Probably not this week. March seems like it might be okay. After that, life is a crap shoot. You never know. So I wanted to share a few things with you, while I still have a chance. You see, or what you don't see, the weakness in my arms makes it difficult to get my hands up to the table and keyboard. The shakiness in my hands makes it difficult to type consistently; some days are good, some days are not. Soon I may go to voice control. So here is what limited wisdom I have which I feel might be useful to you.

My death will impact you in ways you are not prepared for, in ways you may not understand even once you get there. I am sure you will miss me, or miss what used to be me. I am just as sure you will not miss some things about me. You see, in addition to being a parent, I am also a child. When my Dad died, I was surprised at some of the things I dealt with afterwards, things I did not expect, things I will not share here. You will go through it too, dealing with your loss, your grief, probably even your guilt. It's just the way it works. How you deal with it is up to you. What you have to deal with is also up to you. Just be prepared and know in advance that I understand.

Be kind to your mother, and your in-laws. They are aging quickly. I will soon be gone and will not be a part of your support equation. When the time comes to care for your Mom, or your in-laws, your children will see this. They will model their treatment of you on the way you treat your parents. They will learn about love, respect, intimacy, care, and so much more as you care for an aging parent. Be good. Be kind. Be loving. Hope that what you give represents what you would like to get.

Support one another. I was raised by a father who did not believe that model. I have tried all my life to do better, yet at this point I feel like I have failed, and thus I feel like I have failed as a father, just like the way I feel about my Dad. It is a vicious circle. Break it. Constantly be in touch with each other as the years pass. Forgive one another. Judge not; just let it go. Be the first sibling on the call list for your other siblings. Be the second. Be the third. Be on that list. I wish I had done more, done better at this. I hope my siblings will forgive my failing.

Show your children that love and forgiveness go far beyond the front doors of your home. Let them know that it is more than just those you see each day. Demonstrate the care and forgiveness that you have for your family, for your friends, even for a complete stranger. Be helpful so your children know that helping others should be their first response. That also means helping them first, even before yourself, until they are adults, no longer needing your help. Then you can enjoy watching them share that lesson with their children, as I have loved watching it grow in yours.

Take care of yourself, in body, mind, and spirit. If you are not healthy, how can you have the strength needed to help others? Be active. That way you can chase after your grandchildren; yes, that will happen sooner than you think. Eat well. That doesn't mean avoiding everything which the world says is bad for you. It means eating those foods which nourish you, giving you the strength to do what you wish, when you wish. Read, as you do, to yourself and your children. Dr. Seuss contains many great lessons for adults too! But then again, a decent novel every once in a while never hurts. Take a moment in time each day, be at a few minutes or as much as an hour, to simply empty your mind of your daily cares and focus inward. Whatever your spirit may contain, feed it the positive food that you feed your body. You are loved. You are beautiful. You are kind. You are wise. Take the time to remind yourself of these things.

Spend the money. Sometimes you will have more. Sometimes you will have less. One day you will realise how much you can do with so little, and how little you really need. So you can save, although it is difficult with families depending on you. Yet, at the same time, know that there are simply times and events in life where you should spend the money. Buy those school pictures. I so desperately wish I had done that. You were beautiful children, just are you are beautiful adults. I just miss those children so much. I wish I had the pictures. Go on a family vacation; you know all about that. I never made a lot of money, but I am really proud of what we could do with the money we made. I believe your lives are better for it. I know mine is. I have the memories, so much more valuable than the money.

Respond to the pain in your life. Pain is nature's way of saying you are off course. Don't ignore it. Don't see it as a necessary part of life. If you are in pain, change something, anything, to get yourself back on course. Change does not mean you have failed at something; it means you are changing direction to get more out of life. Remember my three rules. If it ain't fun, don't do it. If you have to do it, find a way to make it fun. If you can't find a way to make it fun, pretend until it's over, and get it over with as quickly as you can.

Look forward in life, but live in the moment. The past is in your wake, a memory of what you have left behind. You can't change it; don't dwell on it. The future is what you are planning for, not what will happen. You don't know what will happen, not tomorrow, not even later today. So yes, plan for a future, but focus your energy on where you are now. Look at me. I planned. I saved. I had a retirement plan all mapped out. I will never get to live it, beyond what I have lived since diagnosis. That day changed me forever. I learned, in the time it takes to say those three little letters, that all my planning, all my saving, all my dreaming meant nothing.

When I left your Mom, I was changing course, leaving behind the pain and heading down a new path. Then, less than a year later, that path was stolen from me. So, once again in pain, I changed course. I began to ask myself "What about today?"; "Why am I waiting?" As it turns out, I failed to die on schedule. This, so far, has been my greatest single mistake. While I have enjoyed the extra time, my pain continues, increasing daily, and I cannot change my path, except to make an early departure.

That brings me back to where I began. It is entirely likely that one night soon I will decide to go to sleep with no plan for waking up. I will change my path from life to death, and hope the pain ends there. No more weakness. No more shaking. Just peace and rest. I will not, I can not, tell you when. That's because I don't know myself. But one day, all too soon, it will happen. Just know that my last thoughts will be of you, the greatest accomplishment in my life, the best thing I ever did. I love you.