Borrowed Time

Content Warning!!!       

I was inspired by a Swedish project that, some years ago, introduced a system of borrowing actual people for 45 minutes, instead of borrowing books from the library. It was called the Malmo project. The objective was to gain a better understanding of individuals from different backgrounds and to dismantle prejudices toward cultural differences. Beautiful, right? 

I was so inspired by this idea that I once wrote a narrative essay, similar to this concept, except the person I borrowed wasn’t physically present. I manipulated this idea to serve a purpose related to life and death. I chose my dad for obvious reasons but also because I’m slightly preoccupied with the end of my life. My husband once said, “You are really the only person I know who lives their life based on impending death.” We’ve found humor in my approach, but it has really deepened our psychological perspective. I’ve noticed a beautiful and profound awareness in our lives. If you want to die with memories and not just dreams, then take risks and make changes that only the courageous do. I’m here to ignite a fire within you so that you can feel the courage to live your best life. I have learned that time is my teacher and I use it well.  The alarm isn’t blaring everyday but for the most part I hear it loud and clear. I will continue to use this trusted tool, so I never forget that “time isn’t the main thing, it’s the only thing.”

Tell me you haven’t had this thought~ one day my life will be over~ followed by a shudder. Society doesn’t openly discuss death in the same way we discuss grief. We don’t have dinner with friends and converse about, “So, did you buy that plot yet, or are you getting cremated?” And I don’t recommend you do, unless you want your friends to start dropping like flies! I wish it were different because of all the taboo topics we discuss; death is off limits!  Most people prefer to live in denial and listen, that’s okay. My objective here is to talk about my own experience while inspiring you to get busy dying. For Fucks sake, every day is an opportunity to feel alive. Make plans, make changes, just don’t make excuses.

I appreciate the “living in the moment” mentality and I fully embrace it but think about how much more meaningful life could be if you faced your own mortality.  I know this can make people uncomfortable and naturally you may want to reject it. You may even experience Death anxiety, which is not unusual. I still have moments of complete paralysis related to existential thoughts.  The absolute terror, thinking that one day I will cease to exist is just hard to process, but I’ve come to appreciate that the thoughts related to the end of your life can give you new life.

Please stop living as though you have all this time. We are dying every day and it pains me to my core to see so many people sleepwalking through life. I recently had a conversation with a lifelong friend while writing this and I asked her, “if I told you, you have 6 months left to live and then it’s lights out, would you live any differently?” And without hesitation, she replied, “Yes!” and went on to share all the beautiful things she would do. It’s astounding to me that so many people struggle to live beyond what’s safe and predictable.  We live our lives everyday never knowing if a run to the store or a drive to the office will result in our return. Ask yourself the same question I asked my friend. Keep asking until you begin to live. I mean truly live. Take that risk, trip, job change, overdue end to a loveless relationship…don’t make excuses. Plan your life as if you have a limited time here because the reality is, this life has an expiration date. Any idea when that is? Of course not, so why wouldn’t you live and make decisions with some sense of urgency.

I left a life full of security for many reasons but the stand out was an ordinary day. I was doing laundry, cleaning the house, feeling completely invisible and asked myself, this can’t be all there is to life! I lived behind the white picket fence, literally and figuratively. I took that fence down and have never felt more free.

In 1969, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, a pioneer in the stages of grief and near-death studies, wrote: “If all of us would make an all-out effort to contemplate our own death, to deal with our anxieties surrounding the concept of our death… perhaps there could be less destructiveness around us.”

This can be a useful exercise to heal yourself from loss and as a reminder to live, truly live, because we are all on borrowed time, like it or not! 

Here’s my version of the exercise that I’ve used to accept life, death and loss.  Life changes and passes us in a blink if we aren’t paying attention.

Hello Dad,

Please don’t cry. I know it’s been so long, and I’m all grown up now. I think of this place often. Our lives as a family, the way it used to be. I see it in my dreams. I used to see you in my dreams. You don’t visit much anymore. Your here now. Our home, the place that held the memories of my youth and our time together as a family. You were so fragile, unlike the the strong man whose voice would roar my name. It reminds me of how quickly time passes and how suddenly life can change. To see you again is just as I remember. I was of the age where friends and boys were most important. I was rushing past you a lot. I would have slowed down had I known. I’m sorry. That’s the thing, there is no warning. Yes, dad. It was my lesson.

I am sitting on the pink, floral sofa in front of the big bay window with you beside me.  I loved our living room. It was where I learned the most about you, and it was also the last place I last saw you alive. 

The potted palm tree was so tall it would graze the highest point of our vaulted ceiling. It rested next to the wall unit that held all those picture frames of our favorite moments. The bleached color of the wood floor, so vast, it almost resembled the sand found on a tropical island. I stopped noticing the peace of this room and I recognized how sick you were by the prescription bottles, the makeshift bed, your cane and most of all, how you became a permanent fixture that could always be found in the same place. You were no longer coming and going, wafts of your Ralph Lauren Polo cologne permeating in the air behind you, just stillness. 

I recall the warmth of the sun through the pane as I sat there waiting impatiently. Your rainbow of oil paints perfectly laid on the ledge of your easel and the sound of your pencil against the grain of the paper.  You begin to sketch. I knew in that moment I would never allow you to finish.

I feel blessed to be with you again. I know how happy it will make you if I sit on this couch, not distracted, but simply me in the moment with you. So here I am dad, sketch me.  I will treasure it forever. I still have the oil painting that you did of mom and the many others.  I stare at your signature~ Love, Sonny. It’s baffling to me, even all these years later that you were once here; living, breathing and my father.  I remember how much you loved opera. I can still hear Pavarotti on those Sunday mornings.  I remember your advice.  I was young, but I was listening. I remember it all in the short time we had together.

Mortality can be so ambiguous, and I ache to know where you will be when you leave.  Should I be afraid?  I hope, I believe, it’s a peaceful place. Will I see you again? I hope, I believe, and I pray.  I have learned that we are all on borrowed time. I know you must be returned, but in your absence, I will continue to live my best life and make you proud. I will always live everyday as if tomorrow may never show. May we meet again.

I truly believe, death teaches us how to live. Live your best life, your not getting another!

x,M