To a passer-by catching a snippet of our conversation that day, it might have sounded like a meeting of the minds between two of the dearest of friends, given the gravity and intensity of our discussion. We are friends, but not close ones: she, another mum from school who has been given, like so many, an approximate date to leave her precious life.
‘Why do we need to see death before we actually choose to really start living?’ she asked, in a chatty and almost jovial way.
As I sat with her, listening to her talk and watching her tender tears roll rhythmically down her face, I felt this tremendous sense of privilege and awe and a kind of almighty respect for the extraordinary honesty with which she spoke. And I wondered why, as a rule, we (as in all of us) don’t allow ourselves, or each other, the opportunity to speak and share more freely. That is, until we feel we finally have nothing left to lose.
She wanted to talk about exploring, creatively and beautifully, ways to leave stories, items, advice, or videos, for her girls. She wanted to share the prickly, stinging feelings when imagining someone else mothering her children. That’s what she wanted to talk about.
And yet here she was with me, an acquaintance, breathing in the opportunity, between tears and laughter, to dive into the conversations, that for many of us, particularly the ones who’s premature fear, pain and love, make it too unbearable to utter.
This little post is about encouraging a willingness to step over our desperate need to protect ourselves, as we undermine and muffle what could be a life a changing conversation and a legacy of love left behind.
Nothing but love …