Who will die soon?

This morning, a friend texted me asking for a hug. “My aunt Beverly just died,” she wrote. Moments later she walked through my door and cried in my arms.

You know that people die. Your body will die. Your dearest loved ones’ bodies will die, too. And since we aren’t our bodies — we are spiritual beings having a human experience — this isn’t “bad” news.

​Yet we experience ourselves in and as our bodies, with lungs that breathe and relations rooted in the physical world, and so — it hurts.

Hearts break when someone dies. Waves of grief press up against our chest. Grief takes time to pass through us, carving deeper canyons of empathy into our heart.

When Jerry Garcia died, I was on the island of St. Thomas in the Caribbean. I heard the news and ran up a hill, sobbing about Jerry, singing My Sisters and Brothers. “So let’s walk together little children, we don’t ever have to worry, through this world of trouble, we’ve got to… love one another…”

My heart broke because I loved him; his music helped me feel more Love.

When Prince died, I put on my purple raincoat and danced all night, crying in between squeals of ecstasy about how good it felt to still be alive, dancing.

My heart broke because I loved him; his music helped me feel more Love.

“Life is short” is often said, but really, Life is now.

Only now. And now, and now.

During the pandemic, we got to see how afraid we are of dying. Someone close to us dies and we are in shock, as if we didn’t really understand that … people die.

It is one thing to know this.

It’s a whole different thing to actually lose a loved one.

With children, we openly show Love. They’re so delightful, it’s hard to hold back. Yet with elders, somehow we’ve lost touch with our capacity to extend presence and playfulness, instead tossing them aside to spend their later years lonely and forgotten.

This is NOT OK. 💔

​That’s why I write memoirs.

​Yesterday I got an email from my first client, an 87-year-old woman in San Diego. She expressed thanks for the deeply moving experience of having her memoir written, and how beautiful it has been for her to share it with others.

This is why I do it. The actual book is wonderful, and yet the the real, immeasurable beauty of the memoirs is the whole experience of creating closer bonds with loved ones at the later stage of someone’s Life. When I started writing memoirs in 2016, I knew it would be really special, but I couldn’t see the awe I’d feel until now.

Don’t wait until your beloved parent or grandparent dies, to honor them by telling their stories. Put in the time now to celebrate, in writing, their precious life. Sit with them while they're alive, ask them gorgeous questions that show them you’re not tossing them aside — you treasure them. Record your conversation and write it down.

Even a simple process and a simple printed document is better than nothing.

Don’t have the time? Hire me to do it. You can reach me at letsleanintolight@gmail (dot-com).

Life is only Now. 

​Honor it.