If you’re a new mother, you might not have had time to consider it. With each passing day, though, the enormity of a mother’s responsibilities sinks in, and sooner or later you’ll wonder what would happen if you weren’t here tomorrow.
Maybe the thought will come out of a desire to leave, to get out of dodge, so to speak; you just cannot take it any more. You might relish the thought of others suddenly realizing how much you do, what hard work it is, while you live it up somewhere, anywhere else. When and if you decided to come back, maybe you wouldn’t be taken for granted anymore.
Then again, maybe someone near and dear to your heart has died. You can’t physically say anything to that person anymore, let alone give them a hug and a kiss. Looking into the eyes of your babe and/or children, you realize just how brightly they shine. Hopefully you realize how each moment with them deserves to be cherished.
Even still there are other reasons for contemplating your own mortality. The truth is that we don’t live forever. On a cellular level, we live and die every moment. But perhaps you’ve discovered an illness, been in a nearly fatal accident or simply have to make out a will. Do you feel your stomach twist, the tears sting? The fact of our mortality is nothing to deny or run away from. We accept it for what it is, nothing more, nothing less, and we live in each moment fully. Ideally, anyway.
So, if tomorrow comes and I’m not here, my family can see my home and realize I was too busy with the kids to get the dusting done. My husband can see how important it was for me to have my journal and numerous writing projects. I don’t have anything physical for my friends to know how important they are to me. I suppose that serves as a reminder to be sure to tell them how much I enjoy their company, their companionship on my journey.
Undoubtedly, without me the world will keep spinning, the kids will keep growing and the laundry will get done by someone eventually. But I’m the only one who can offer sweet whispers of mother’s love to my children, and when I’m gone, that’s what I want them to remember.