the last word

OK - it wasn't so much an assignment as it was a fulfillment of an answer to a question asked during our first session of Wills & Estates (sure to become my favorite class this semester, thanks to Judge Lee).  he asked the class how many of us had a will - out of 70+ students, 4 raised their hands (including me).  in the interest of full disclosure, i am obligated to admit that i don't have a *valid* legal will, but i do have the skeleton form on my laptop and i now have an excellent reason to validate the will's provisions and get it safely stored away.  in any case, having done some research into the matter, i discovered a neat part of a will, the name of which will surely strike a reflexive, albeit retroactive, dread into the hearts of any of this blog's followers that went through the travails of law school applications: the personal statement.  yes, that's right - today's modern will contains an option to include some last words which must be included in the reading of one's will.  who says you can't get the last word? the addition of a personal statement to a will gives one the opportunity truly to get the drop on all those pesky relatives who never let anyone skate by without some pithy commentary or cautionary axiom floating on the breeze as its target drives away.  that said, here is the text of my personal statement as it stands now, though i'm sure as i get older, more crotchety, and less in control of my mental faculties (though it's difficult to see how i could lose any more control over those), it will change somewhat. even so, the message will win through - imbibe each word, friends, as they are all for you.

******

As Freud once famously said, '[E]veryone of us is convinced of his own immortality.' Considering this was a man with more neural pathways under construction at any given moment than your average Amoeba Mathletes team, in this he was completely correct, and yet I couldn't agree less.  In my humble opinion, I think it's even more important to be not only convinced, but absolutely and utterly aware - at every moment - of one's mortality. Otherwise, we lose sight of our motivation to get things right while we can, and where we fall short, to make amends as best we are able.  Living as though you are immortal takes no special drive, no remarkable talent even.  The trick is to keep your mortality always at the periphery of your awareness, so that when the Fates hold your life's thread taut and start sharpening their scissors, you can observe all this with the contentment of one whose immortality awaits only the germination of seeds planted in stories passed down through generations: evolving from dry, even antiseptic, recountings into evermore colorfully embellished family folklore, from folklore into the stuff of legend.

If, when I leave this world, I can say that death is truly the only thing I have left to experience, the only bridge I have yet to cross, the only stone I have yet to turn over, the last empty box on my checklist....well, then immortality becomes a significantly less significant achievement, doesn't it?  Who wants to live forever if you can never really complete the race, cross off that last to-do?  It's said that Mozart never overslept when he had important meetings, because his wife Kostanze discovered a foolproof alarm, guaranteed to rouse the great Amadeus from his bed without exception: she would go to the piano and play the first seven notes of a C major scale, but she would omit the C at the top, leaving the penultimate tone hanging in the air while she walked away from the instrument, and forcing her husband to leap from the bed within mere seconds to play the entire scale with the final tonic note at the end, right where it should be.  He simply *could not* leave it alone.  To me, it seems that actual immortality would be like hearing that same unfinished scale over and over again - the agony of never being able to play that final note and have the satisfaction of resolution and accomplishment would defeat me.

For my part, I choose not to recollect the failures in my life, which are legion, but in this moment - which, in my mind's eye, is full of people celebrating according to my instructions rather than weeping or mourning - I would like to catalog what I believe are (or I hope they will be, at the moment of this document's reading) my greatest achievements.  My one great hope is that when this document is read out loud, the following statements will have been borne out in truth:
- that I lived deep and sucked out all the marrow of life (credit to Thoreau for this, a lasting image captured in my mind so many years ago), with the understanding that there is no time for 'what if.'
- that I was known as a compassionate person, one who could be counted on in a pinch to answer 'Yes!' to all those who needed my help, regardless of whether I was asked.
- that those dear to me knew every moment of every day how much I loved them and how much of my own strength I drew from them and their love for me.
- that I never met a stranger.
- that I always stood ready with a smile and kind word, even in my own darkest moments, because it really is possible to 'fake it till you make it.'

- that my sister, Sandy, lived each day secure in the knowledge that never in this world has anyone ever been blessed as I was with the sister of the ages, a staunch defender, one whose shoulder never grew weary of absorbing my tears, a firm ally in both famine and plenty, and one who always joyfully proclaimed that she shared my blood.
- that Trinity, Micayla, and Jaden were as proud to be my nieces as I was, every moment, to be their aunt, and that I was always there for them when they needed me, bound inexorably together by love stronger even than steel.
- that I will be remembered as a cheerful giver, someone with an astounding capacity for remembering even the smallest details, but with complete amnesia for the faults of others or wrongs done to me.
- that my life, despite my mistakes, misgivings, and mishaps, truly reflected God's love and kindness, someone of whom all my family and friends would never be ashamed to claim as their own and who made them proud.

Dear ones, I love you.  For those gone ahead, I rejoice in anticipation of our reunion, and for those left behind (it's only for a short while!), I implore you not to cry for my passing, but to remember me each time you speak without thinking, act without hesitation, and love without expectation of recompense.  'And now abide faith, hope, and love, these three; but the *greatest of these* is LOVE.'