As I get older, I become more aware of death, not that I didn't have enough of it during my father's few years with stage 4 colon cancer. After he died, it was near-death for we who remained, myself, my sister, and my mother, because my father hadn't done anything to gather his pension information, his Social Security information for those survivor's benefits for my mother, although he did try to make an effort to pay off some of his credit card bills, though that was only toward the end of his life when he was become weaker. Therefore, it fell to me to do all of that, a solid two weeks, with no time to grieve, simply because we had to be sure that we had enough money to remain where we were. My mother didn't want anything to do with that because she had always said that she's not the kind to step up. She prefers to be in the background, supported by others, but never one to take charge.
I am still considered relatively young and therefore I apparently still have all the time in the world. But I am aware that I'm getting older, moreso now in my late 30s than my late 20s. My priorities in my life are becoming more acute, the books I want to read, the history I want to learn, and the books I want to write. I have this sharp feeling of needing to add more value to my life every day, whatever else that might be.
I saw plenty of death in 2019 because it wasn't only my father, but our two beloved, elderly dogs a few months before that. What else could possibly touch me after that? I don't avoid discussions of it because I have known it well from this perspective, and it's what undergirds my entire life, the driving engine. My mother and father had a terrible marriage that devolved into all-out war. My father never got the true sense of happiness he was seeking, beyond his decades as a beloved teacher. I know he wouldn't want me to waste my time in any sense and to do what feels right for me. I'm always open to talking about it because I have seen it and I wonder what the experiences of others have been.