Twenty nine days.
That’s all the time Emily Phillips had left after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Twenty nine days to hug her family and friends. To forgive. To reflect back on life and all the lessons and memorable moments.
Emily went to work and penned her own obituary. She must have been quite the sassy, funny lady, because after reading every word, I wished I could have met her. No doubt she left a big hole in the hearts of people who knew her, but her obituary went viral and touch millions (yes, millions!)
Toward the end of her obituary, Emily summed up her life:
So…I was born; I blinked; and it was over.
So this had me thinking this morning–every one of us should write our own obituaries. Perhaps if we faced the final days of our lives in the middle of NOW, we would cherish every moment instead of throwing it away. Perhaps we would reach out and say the loving words that others need to hear. Perhaps we would design the next days and hopefully years of our lives in a much different way than we are slodging through today.
No buildings named after me; no monuments erected in my honor.
But I DID have the chance to know and love each and every friend as well as all my family members. How much more blessed can a person be?
We are indeed blessed, but sometimes we forget. Sometimes we get wrapped up in issues that won’t have an impact ten minutes, much less ten months, later.
So for a few minutes today, write out your obituary. How do you want to be remembered? What impact do you want to leave behind with your loved ones? What is your purpose, your gifts, your skills…and how did you share them with the world?
If an obituary is just too much, you can do your 100th birthday party speech in the same way.
At any point, you can change your path, change your thoughts, and change your words so that your obituary or 100th birthday reflects the life you truly want to live. Then go out and live it.
So in the end, remember…do your best, follow your arrow, and make something amazing out of your life. Oh, and never stop smiling.
If you want to, you can look for me in the evening sunset or with the earliest spring daffodils or amongst the flitting and fluttering butterflies. You know I’ll be there in one form or another. Of course that will probably comfort some while antagonizing others, but you know me…it’s what I do.
I’ll leave you with this…please don’t cry because I’m gone; instead be happy that I was here. (Or maybe you can cry a little bit. After all, I have passed away).
Today I am happy and I am dancing. Probably naked.
Love you forever.
Emily