Nobody said life would be easy,
They just promised it would be worth it.
This week, people are quoting Steve Jobs like mad. Losing a great innovator such as him at the age of fifty-six shocks us all, and terrifies us all of the threat death has over us all. Of all the quotes floating around, the strongest one is this passage from his 2005 Stanford Commencement Address:
"When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."
This week, my family buried my aunt. Her story is not unlike that of Steve Jobs, and yet there is no media attention for her. No radio snippets of her best lines, no running list of her accomplishments. For this, I am grateful, as it was difficult enough to hear them at the funeral. She was an amazing woman - a shining example of the polished woman I hope to be looked upon when I have the privilege of being an aunt myself - and, like Steve Jobs, taken much too young. She would have turned fifty-six next week...
Last spring, "Auntie" decided to enjoy her last few months in this physical world. At that point, I said my goodbye, as best I could, in an email to her. (I've always been better in written word than spoken word...thus, the blogs.) Below are the passages from that email I wish to share with the world...the passages that I think represent her the most:
"When I think of you, I think merely "Auntie." In the same respect, whenever the discussion of "aunt" or "aunty" comes up, my mind automatically puts your picture in place of that word. Is that strange? No. You are, above all else, the definition of "aunt." When I write my dictionary, your face will be there!
"Aunt: the sister of a parent; a role model; an endless supply of love and support; a voice of reason and guidance; a source of fun and games; a secondary caretaker; a person one wishes to emulate.
"For me you have proven the above definition to be most accurate. When I think of my future, in regards to family, you are the one person I want most to resemble. The person who never forgot a birthday, confirmation, graduation, or Christmas - and sent us cards so that we wouldn't forget these events either. I wasn't lying when I told you that I've kept every single card from you over the years...that's quite the shoebox collection of cards in my possession. ...they are something I never want to let go of. And I never will. They were selfless gifts sent to make our days brighter when you couldn't be there yourself, and even when you were there in person.
"As we moved past adolescence and into adulthood, your visits have made the memories moreso than the cards. The inevitability of life is not only that one no longer needs to receive cards each year but technology advances from postal service to internet service. Your keeping in touch with us is the one constant thing of life. And as I've grown, I've reflected a lot on life, where I would like to be, how I would like to be ..., and why I would like all of these things. ... And I want to see the world. ... your tales of travelling throughout my child is responsible for part of that wanderlust I cling tightly to within myself. The way your eyes lit up as you told us tales of New Zealand had a major impact on my life.
... There you came, to help, without ever being asked. And who knew you'd inspire the adults to play with the barbies as much as you thought they'd entertain the "growing-up" girls. That day is one of my favourites from my childhood. The most shocking of that may have been that in the rooms where we gathered sat so many successful women. Intelligent, driven, ambitious, and amazing role models. My feminist rants may have slowed, but my feminine guidance has never wavered. I now think of myself as a woman first, and a feminist second. With such amazing role models to follow, my equality to male peers is rarely questioned. As a professional (and lawyer to boot ;-D), you are among the many women I have looked upto as proof that feminism has succeeded.
"The one thing I admire most in you, though, is that you have never told us what to do. You have merely believed that we are on the right path, and will go in the necessary direction for our lives to be a success. You have been our biggest cheerleader, and a selfless voice of encouragement. This trait I wish the most to have learned from you. I fear, though, that I am not meant to be the silent child in the room. My voice may not come in its most peaceful form too often, but I recognize that at those time I am blocked by a great fear that there is not enough time. There may never be enough time...
"... put simply, I want you to know that I love you. And, when your physical time here is done, I know you will still be in my life. There is no possible way that you won't be in the lives of thousands of people - that is how strong you are! I think of how much Grandma has been in my life, and how much she still is, and I know that your grandkids are going to be so blessed, as they are already."
Those who know they are dying are the best examples to us all. They teach us to focus on what we value most. For my aunt, that was her family. And each day, in each interaction, she made the moment count. In each moment, she proved that life may not be easy, but was precious, and definitely worth it.
My wildest adventure - Morocco for Christmas! - after being inspired by travel tales from "Auntie."
Getting to Morocco was one of the most difficult travelling experiences I have yet to come across. This moment of playing drums, in the Sahara Desert, with a new "crazy" older woman (who reminded me of many nights spent around a dinner table with my aunties) made the several setbacks of getting there WORTH IT! In fact, had my trip there been easy, I probably wouldn't have seized the day quite as well while in Morocco. The first of many trips, I'm sure, that I will never forget...
