Maybe it was the name I recognized in the Death Notices section of the paper, or maybe it’s the fact that four sweet ladies—all moms of dear friends—have recently passed away. Not sure of the exact trigger, but lately I’ve been thinking about what my eventual funeral will look like. Morbid meanderings. Not my favorite. But what if God did take me today? Would they call my story “tragic”, since I “died so young”?
To be clear, I’m good with dying. The hope of Heaven trumps any dread of my inevitable passing. Whether it comes like a slow courtship or an unexpected elopement, it comes . . . for all of us, right?
Thinking about how I’d like to be eulogized makes me a better human. Conceiving how my kids will live a full life without me makes me cry because, well—I’m a mom. And when it comes down to it, I want them to be as happy as they are at this moment, whether or not I am sharing happiness with them in the next.
Which leads me to this universal plea to all who survive my children: Will you please do what you can to make the rest of their life beautiful?
You may not even live in the same state, but you can be kind where you are (kindness is known for getting around).
You can plant trees and flowers (seeds have a way of spreading).
You can speak up for those who have no voice (hope has a habit of spouting wings).
You can pray (God is omnipresent).
You can raise your own children to be good and loving, then send them out to share that goodness with the world (in which my loved ones happen to reside, too).
If I died today, these are the ways you can love me tomorrow.
Because while I hope with all my heart that I’ll be around to see my offspring learn and grow, laugh and play, hunt and fish and lead a good full life, it may just not pan out that way. So if it doesn’t, do your part and give a girl a reason to sport an even brighter heavenly smile, will ya?
I’d be eternally grateful.