Some of you will remember that I’m working my way through the memoir writing prompts in Natalie Goldberg’s book Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir. This week’s is to write what I’ll miss when I die. If you are like me, the thought makes you more than a little uncomfortable. But I’m determined to push my limits both in my writing and in my heart.
A reminder of Nathalie’s rules: Write for 10 minutes. Don’t worry about punctuation, spelling, grammar. Be specific. Don’t cross out. (Or in this case, don’t delete.) Just keep writing.
When I die
I’ll miss my children’s laughter, and the sweet silkiness of nestling against their skin. I’ll miss how often they both infuriate and fill me with contentment.
I’ll miss the bright, nostalgic colours of fall. They remind me of young love, the anticipation of new and fresh starts, and the comforts of home.
I’ll miss books, and words, and discovering thoughts and ideas that inspire and propel me.
I’ll miss my husband’s kindness and his complete, unconditional love. I’ll miss the way we bicker and tease, and the sense of security that comes how well he knows me.
I’ll miss snuggling in bed, gazing at the first light, and listening to the orchestral sounds of morning.
I’ll miss chocolate, and coffee, and Tex-Mex. Each a delight to my senses.
I’ll miss long, invigorating discussions with friends, their laughter and the sisterhood of women.
I’ll miss feeling the bone deep chill of winter, and the satisfying lull of a hot bath enjoyed with a vibrant glass of wine under dim lighting.
I’ll miss flip flops, summers at the beach and bathing suits filled with sand.
I’ll miss planning our families next big travel adventure, and the anticipation that grows as each one draws near.
I’ll miss long rides in the car, singing loudly to techno Top 40 music.
I’ll miss paper, and colour and the satisfaction that comes from using it to secure our family’s memories.
I’ll miss soul-quenching tears, and the cleansing that comes from shedding them.
I’ll miss just knowing, and seeing and talking.