Loving and Dying

It’s so easy to take life for granted. I’m so lucky to have my asthma under control, and there are such great meds now that it’s a total non-issue, save once every year or two. And I’m so healthy now. I’m strong and I can do as much activity as I want. It’s a blessing every day, but it’s so easy to forget.

Yesterday I had an asthma attack, which is an interesting experience. When you’ve got minutes of oxygen between you and death, what’s important in life becomes crystal clear.

What it means to live, why live, and what’s important have been on my mind for a lot of my life. Death being a part of my life growing up, and the time I spent struggling to just live and be healthy in my twenties, not to mention asthma attacks in my thirties (and a concussion!) forcing me to stare death in the face, have all taught me that it all really comes down to love.

The article, The Top 5 Regrets of the Dying, has been making the rounds lately. When I’ve been around people who have died, I’ve noticed there’s a place of pure peace and pure love that they reach.

The only other time I’ve seen that kind of love and clarity is from mothers. There seems to be a period of time when they’re so swollen with love for their unborn or recently born baby, that they don’t have room for petty issues or anger or resentment. They know what’s important: they just LOVE.

Forgiveness is unnecessary. It’s like you reach a point where no matter what someone has done, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even register, not even as the tiniest breeze on the tip of your finger. You just reach a point where it’s all just acceptance and love.

(Somewhere between the panic and tears, ROFL…)

But in the daily grind of things, those big lessons we learn along the way of life are forgotten, and petty issues grow bigger, and we start keeping mental spreadsheets of giving and getting, of faults and grievances, and who did what or didn’t what.

In the end, you don’t care about any of that, or even about the love you’ve gotten; you only want to give more love.

Last night reminded me how lucky I am, and that I want to live—live, not just live—and that I want to love more. And life is too precious to even bother thinking about the small stuff, let alone sorting out whether you want to sweat it or not.

Also, most of the big stuff is actually quite small.

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Written by Natasha Fondren in: Musings |

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