Do you guys ever think about dying?

this post is not about Barbie, but I do recommend watching it

It’s been exactly one year since my cousin’s husband, Greg, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. News like this is always devastating, but losing Greg felt exceptionally heartbreaking. He was younger than 40, a lovely human with a huge circle of friends, and an absolute pro at stay-at-home parenting. He was the only guy I’d ever heard my cousin, Katie, talk about — they’d been together since college. He made an awesome breakfast. He made a point to connect with people, gently asking questions until he found common ground. He made everyone in his presence feel important and included.

Greg was one of those people you always wish there were more of.

I almost typed the word “unfair” in my first paragraph, because that’s exactly how it feels. But as soon as I thought of that word, I remembered that hard lesson I’d already learned when my dear friend, Hayley, died two years ago. She was another person I wish there were more of.

When Hayley died, I realized that fairness plays no role in death. There’s no logic or law governing who lives or dies, and if there is, then it’s far beyond the scope of human comprehension.

left to right is my brother, Steve, his wife, Jessica, me, and Greg circa 2014

Greg left us by way of a fatal snowmobile accident in the remote mountains of Colorado. He and his friends had the skills, experience, and safety equipment they needed to take on such an endeavor. There’s very little we know about the accident because he’d gotten separated from his friends before it happened. But I hope his final seconds were thrilling in the most profoundly beautiful way. I hope the last thing he saw was a bluebird sky and an epic landscape of untouched snow. I hope he felt like the king of the world. I hope he died before he realized he crashed, or even lost control.

Telling myself that Greg died in a moment of glory is my feeble attempt to balance the scales when it comes to his untimely loss. But, again, I know that fairness has nothing to do with it. Of course it’s not fair. Death is not fair.

This past year, I’ve thought about Greg and Hayley a lot. In the past two years, I’ve lost two people who were within two years of my age when they died. It’s made me wonder, if I had only two years left, how would I feel about how I’m spending my time?

The question is always in the back of my mind. Am I living in alignment with my values? Am I taking opportunities as they come, and always searching for the back entrance when a front door slams in my face? Am I showing my friends how much I love them? Am I having fun? Am I making every moment count?

I ask myself these questions often, and I’m not pleased with the answers 100% of the time. But, that’s a story for another post.

This year, I started training to be a death midwife with the Mount Shasta Goddess Temple. One of the concepts we’ve been asked to reflect on is that all time is now.

I have different ideas of what that phrase means. It means that now is the time. Do the thing. Celebrate. Love. It also means that the people who came before us, and those we loved in this lifetime who no longer walk among us, are still here with us.

They can never not be.

The night of Hayley’s death, I lit a candle and watched it burn until the flame danced wildly and went out with a soft hiss. Tonight, I will do the same for Greg.

Thank you for reading, and I love you,

Lauren