How does this single line resonate in my life and with my death blog? I slow things down and think about this. Think about nothing else but this. I pause to slide my eyes along the windowpane still pondering and watching cats all padded and puffed for winter.
Seems I say quite a lot about death–but not really. The “I” that writes is alive and well; the “you” that reads is also, I’m hoping, both these things. We are on this exploratory path together and we’ll lie in the same place once it’s over. Indeed, there is life in this activity.
Night sweats come and night sweats go.
They are less about my shifting hormones and more about my fears; fear related to the dueling subjects of life and death. Predictable fears of loss overwhelmingly flood one such as I, a middle-aged woman with parents in their eighties and seven siblings still living.
My four sisters: Kathleen, Heather, Teresa, Frances.
My three brothers: Sean, Kevin, Tim.
All this love. And the fear of loss is a gigantic terror.
So I keep this death blog. I turn off everything else so that I can Think, Noreen! Think! About it.
Today I heard someone on the radio speaking about how we need solitude in order to write. And so I purchased a bit of freedom with a new Apples app. It shuts down my Internet time to zero for whatever duration of minutes I need in order to deaden distractions and dive into the verbiage of my mind. For me, this means doing philosophy.
Philosophy. Thinking and writing on death while allowing the flow of lives to cross the threshold of memory; the padding of lives beyond the shutters.