You know the phrase frozen in fear? The one time I remember being in such a state I was driving to northern Minnesota with my friend Dana and her very little daughter who was sleeping soundly in the back seat. In my peripheral vision I saw a giant blob came at the side of the car and in a fraction of a second the glass had shattered everywhere. I didn't slam on the brakes, I didn't swerve. I didn't even scream. In fact I just let off the gas till we coasted to a stop. I remember Dana speaking. Words that I couldn't hear. I parked the car looked at her daughter who was completely covered in glass and still asleep. I got out of the car and stood in the pitch black road staring at the ground. I could still hear Dana speaking but I couldn't speak back. I was literally frozen in fear. I didn't want her daughter to wake up and grab the glass. I was responsible for these two lives and I almost lost them. Almost lost myself. I was petrified.
I wouldn't experience that fear again until years later on a lake, also in Minnesota, when I literally almost snapped my back in half. When I was completely frozen in fear my with face under the water not able to feel my legs.
I fear a lot of things. I fear my mother will not be proud of me. I fear I won't do my job to the best of my ability. I fear Brodie will have a massive seizure and it will be the last one he will ever have. I used to fear I would never love another human being or that I would never allow one to love me. But recently I have a new fear. And it's not one I am accustomed to. I fear I won't wake up.
Apparently this is a common feeling or phenomenon that a person who has lost a loved one experiences. It doesn't feel common. It feels terrible. It feels ominous. It feels sad.
My father was for all intents and purposes plucked out of the sky. He went to sleep. And never woke up.
I live big. I love big. Everything I do I do it with my whole heart or I don't bother doing it. There is no point. Everything I do is out loud. Larger than life. Go big or go home. It has to be. Living is no exception. But recently my mortality has been nagging at me and it has created an enormous amount of fear. Not debilitating. It's just there. Like a cloak. It doesn't come in waves it's just there. Present. Tap tap tapping on me to listen.
I don't profess to be the best person. I just try to be the best me I can be. There will never be another me. And I will not have children to leave this legacy of me through. I hate that I will never have a person say to me that he or she gets that trait from their mother. There are a lot of things I will never be. That one pains me the most.
Do any of us know when our last day is? No. We don't. Or when. Or how. Or why. But we sure spend a lot of time not living. So when you see me out and about and your first thoughts are wow she's intense. Or wow she's so sensitive. Know this. I'm scared to death. Scared of not living while I am living because to be honest I can close my eyes tonight and that could be it. So while I am living it's going to be big. And it's going to be out loud. Or for me, it's just really not living at all.
My wish for anyone reading this is to please live. Now.