Standing still

I think about death a lot.

After all these years working in end-of-life care, you might assume I would have become completely comfortable with the idea of dying. And in many ways, I have. I am not afraid to die; I just don't want to die yet.

There was a time when I was afraid of death. I was afraid there would be pain. I was afraid it would be frightening or tragic. I even carried a deep fear of drowning for most of my life. I couldn't be in water if I couldn't touch the bottom.

But then I began witnessing people take their last breaths. And over and over again, I saw something I had never understood before. Peace.

I have witnessed so many last breaths that I no longer believe that the final moment has to be something to fear. And I have learned enough about pain management to know that even when there is discomfort, we have so many ways to ease it. That has given me tremendous comfort.

But something happened recently that made me realize something else. I was caring for a gentleman who had just turned 97. One evening, his caregiver called and asked me to come over because he was asking for me. He looked different. He told me he didn't think he would make it through the night.

I thought I was there to say goodbye. I started to cry because suddenly the only thing I wanted him to know was that I loved him. So, I told him.

I asked him how he felt about dying, and he said something that stayed with me…

He didn't want to die yet.

He wasn't afraid.

He wasn't in pain.

He simply wanted more time.

He woke up the next morning feeling better. And I understood something about myself that I think I had already known but hadn't quite said out loud: I want more time, too.

Not because I have unfinished business. Not because I am carrying around regrets or a long list of things I need to accomplish before I can die. I have spent years letting things go. I feel grateful for the life I have lived. If this were all there was, I think I could make peace with that. But there is still so much I want to experience.

I want to watch my grandchildren grow up.I want to see my daughter get married and have a baby.I want to fall in love.I want more ordinary mornings.More conversations.More laughter.More time.

I am not going to make myself a list of everything I must accomplish before I die. I am going to do something much simpler; I am going to take better care of the body that is carrying me through this life.

I always say, “the body knows how to die,” it knows when to let go, and it knows what to do.

But I am realizing something else: The body also knows how to live.

It tells us when it needs rest.It tells us when it needs movement.It tells us when it needs nourishment.It tells us when something isn't right.

For a very long time, I didn't listen, but I am listening now. I am exercising, I am eating better, I am drinking more water, I am sleeping better, and I am paying attention. Not because I am trying to outrun death, but because I want to be here.

I don't know how much time I have left. None of us do. And maybe that's the point. We spend so much of our lives trying to get somewhere. When we are young, we can't wait to be older. We can't wait for the next birthday, the next freedom, the next thing we are finally allowed to do.

And then we grow up, and somehow, we keep doing it.

The next goal.The next accomplishment.The next place we want to go.The next thing we think we need to become.

Always reaching for something just a little farther ahead.

And now, at this place in my life, I find myself wanting something entirely different.

I want to stand still.

I want to stop rushing toward what is next and soak in what is already here.

The people I love.The sound of their voices.The ordinary mornings.The laughter.The conversations.The quiet.The privilege of opening my eyes to another day.

Maybe that's one of the things getting older is teaching me. Life was never asking me to get somewhere. It was asking me to be here.

So yes, I want more time. But I don't want more time so I can fill it, I want more time so I can feel it.

I am not afraid to die. I just finally understand how much I want to live. And for however long I get to do that, I think I will stand still a little longer, and soak it all in.

xo

Gabby