I don’t say all this to be fatalistic or morose; I use it as a simple statement of fact. As one of my Other Mothers pointed out recently, “None of us get out of here alive.” My point is that for the time that I remain here, I am striving to live life with purpose.
While I am partially fulfilling that purpose by teaching, there is still one major thing that I want to accomplish. And that is the publication of my own book. I’ve had one partially complete project in the same stasis for years, and I have a dozen other ideas floating out in different pieces.
In the past few years, I’ve been keeping myself abreast of all sorts of training. Teaching has by far been one of the most lucrative means in which I’ve honed my craft; I am learning more about writing right along with my students each time I read my texts or my notes, or when I find some interesting article about writing or andragogy.
I’ve also been honing my skills by writing. If I wasn’t writing this blog (which I admit I’ve slacked on), I was writing snippets of fiction—ideas that came to me at the spur of the moment, or I was doing freelance writing for actual money, which I’d been doing for the past three years. And while this writing was great, it hasn’t really been writing for me. And most recently, last year, I had the privilege of being editor for not one, but two newsletters, one for my job and another for the local Boys and Girls Club.
And while I’m still alive, I’ll admit that in the last ten years, little pieces of me have died with each person who has left this earthly realm, starting with the death of my aunt, who was one of the main people who always encouraged me to write. I can still hear her voice encouraging me to write a book about my grandmother.
Then in 2013, my grandmother died. She was my muse, my guide, my teacher, my mother all wrapped into one. The absence of her life and her light made the world a little dimmer.
A year after that, my brother died. Where it was easier to accept the passing of my aunt because she had struggled with her health and that of my grandmother because she had made it to a century of life, my brother’s passing was devastating. The way he died was shocking enough, but we were making plans for his third quarter (50+) just the Wednesday before.
An uncle and aunt also passed in the interim. Then in 2017, the triple whammy hit. First, my first cousin died. While I was making plans on how to pay my respects to him in Syracuse, my mom died.
Not 30 minutes before I heard the news, I was saying to my colleague that my mom would probably outlive us all as I’d said a dozen times over a lifetime. So my attention was focused on her mental health and outsmarting her stubbornness. My attention was also diverted by my dad, who’d been on dialysis for almost five years. And right when I had gotten her good, she got me better. To this day, all I can do is sigh and say, “Ah, Rachel,” my usual exasperation.
Fast forward from March all the way to August when it was time for my physical. Serendipity led me to discover that which could have caused my death—an aneurysm. Surgery came and went uneventfully and successfully in October, and all was well with the world.
Until November.
On November 3rd, my dad went into the hospital because of a distended abdomen. Early Saturday morning at 2am would be the last conversation we had together. One hour later, he would be in the cardiac care unit where he would remain until being removed from life support 11 days later. This is the first I’ve tackled this in writing. The most I can say when people offer their sympathy is, “That’s my dude.” As I’ve done with everyone else, he will get his dedicated blog, but just not right now.
Then after his passing, one of my students in my class died in a car crash, followed by one of my Sunday school teachers.
And as of this blog, my only paternal aunt also transitioned as of yesterday morning. Add to that the death of an elderly cousin who checked in on everyone even though he was a distant cousin related to my grandmother. He lived in Georgia and frequently checked in on my brother.
So after saying all of that, you should now see the sense of urgency behind my statement of purpose. Everything I’ve taken on in the past ten years, whether it has been writing, practicing 7 Habits of Highly Successful People, chronicling my daily gratitude, or they Year of Yes and ,the Secret Letters Project, has been toward making me better, stronger, and more resilient.
Now I’m taking the next step. You could call it a step of faith. There is a reason I’m here.
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