In yesterday’s post, I was writing about how dying (twice) is the best thing that has happened to me. Bar none. Yes, I will state it that baldly because it’s true. It has taught me so many things, the main one being appreciation. I have dubbed every day I’m alive a bonus day, and I am deeply appreciative of it.
I have said this several times. I should be dead. For real dead, I mean. Not temporary dead. Permanent dead. I should not be here. I should not be breathing air. I should be in the ground. Or rather, scatteered to the win. I would like to be cremated when I die, but in order for that to happen, I need to write a will. My mother and I had this discussion several years ago. I said I wnated to be cremated. Much to my surprise, my mother vigorously protested. I thought because she was a Christian, she would be all for it. Christians are about the soul and not the body. But no. She said that she needed a body to visit, which freaked me out.
I am not gawping at the world every moment of every day. You can’t live life like that because, well, you just can’t. I was talking to my brother about a woman he had dated (read, had sex with) for a month. He was waxing poetic about her because the sex was so good. He has mentioned it more than once that he wanted someone else with a matching libido. Which, fine, but I tried to gently tell him that it probably would have tailed off over time because that’s life. You can’t keep anything at a high level of intensity for many years. Emotion-wise, I mean. It’s just not sustainable.
He didn’t want to hear it, so I let it go after making my point (three or four times. I’m fucking stubborn). You can’t make someone hear something to which they are closing their ears.
It’s true, though. I’m sitting on my couch and looking out the window. It’s a gray day, but there are streaks of blue in the sky. My conifers are green and the trees are budding. It’s 57 degrees after wildly swinging weather. It feels nice. I like anything up to 60 degrees. I’m wearing shorts and a Batman t-shirt. Life is, as they say, good.
I was talking to K the other night. I said that while I was the same person, I had gained perspective from dying. I said I thought I was a much more positive person (but not in a Pollyanna way), and K agreed with me. I’m much more likely to tell my friends that I love them. I’m much more likely to express what I like.