As a facilitator of a life and business-consulting group, I actually prepared this very question for clients to contemplate as part of their curriculum. Looking back at my notes, I am not sure I ever constructed a written response myself. And wow, I am learning so much from what came up! Many matters rose to the surface: At first, I felt like I would go somewhere; experience some grand destination on my bucket list. After I waded through the reactions, I knew this is not the way I would spend my last twenty-four hours. Like internal knowing overrides, I shifted gears…
I’d fly my brother to me instead… To a cabin in the mountains over-looking a serene lake, rather, to join William, my parents, siblings and plus ones, along with our animal kingdom (Abby, Gebur, Bear, Sadie, and Maximus). A meditative walk or hike through the terrain would start the morning. We would wind up cooking a good ‘ole campers’ breakfast – bacon, flapjacks, eggs, hash browns, and fruit – as there is no better breakfast than one made and shared in the mountains. We’d toast to Mimosas and reminisce on memories gone by. We’d laugh and cry and probably debate who remembered what correctly, never really caring for the truth. We would spend the time just as we had in the beginning of it all – simply, lovingly, embracing the now with the family we loved always. As the afternoon turned into evening, we’d evolve our antics into our family knack for charades. We’d play with the animals, and listen to the birds sing as they nested nearby. My brothers would undoubtedly find a snake, suggesting to bring it home as another pet. The gals would protest. The day would be so much fun! We’d take Gebby on a boat ride across the lake. I know I’d definitely go for an evening water ski with whoever wished to partake. Maybe we’d eat dinner, or perhaps just mingle over a cheese, cracker, berry, chocolate, and wine selection, as the men built a fire for all to enjoy. We’d gather around, share stories, cuddle, and smile… I’d wish I could only stay with them all for more than just a little while. I’d proclaim the depths of their meaning to me, each one of them, and their impact individually. I would ask them to live fully, make each moment count. And when they wished to see me, I would tell them to meet back at the cabin in the mountains for I’d be there waiting in the sunshine and in the moonlit trees, in the stars, in the water’s reflection, and the fragrant flowers pollinated by bees…
There are other options, which came to mind about how to live my course of time. I’d write that book. I’d leave a message behind for all the people significant to me. Maybe I’d ask my mom to cook that meal. Or fall asleep in bed next to Gebur and William to end my day. Maybe. Though where I just traveled back from in my mind, the landscape I created feels so sublime, I don’t believe I would change a thing. With one exception: I’ll write that book within me now. I’ll give the message to each person I value each occasion I am with their presence. I’ll let the worries, the fears, and the behaviors which do not serve me go, so I may create more space for the undertakings I felt urged to place into my last day. I’ll choose more wisely. I’ll follow my intuition. I’ll act on my dreams and give unto others. I’ll fill my pages of life with intention, with purpose. So as my last twenty-four hours embrace me day-to-day, I may transition from them naturally, freely, and say, “I Carped the fuck out of that Diem, my life, today!”
Maybe that’s more than one exception. Perhaps it is all the same.