I have always feared death.
Even as a little girl when I l first learned about the inevitability of it, I sensed that it was there licking at my heels.
Waiting, creeping—sneaking around for that moment when I draw my last breath.
Watching in languid reverence as my pupils forever darken and my soul leaves the broken temple that my body will ultimately become.
My comfort is that the memories of the person I uniquely am will remain etched in the minds of my survivors.
That lasting impression of how I lived, who I loved and what I stood for is something that will not be erased, or die, simply when my body does.
When friends and family have passed on I have felt their power, their connection, their whole being forever imprinted on the lives that continue on.
The wisdom and personality that once energetically lived remains entrenched in memory. They pop up in unexpected moments when suddenly—and achingly—a joke, advice, hug, or simply a soul in all their idiosyncratic beauty is remembered.
Their uniqueness and being will always be there.
They are simply unforgettable.
It makes me think—what will I leave behind? What will you leave behind?
My life movie is playing out as we speak. It is the ultimate, five star masterpiece where the plot is my creation, with more climaxes, joy and sorrow awaiting—and its ending is (hopefully) an unseen mountain in the distance.
A drum beats and beats. It’s up to me how loud I make it.
Go deep. Deep within. What do you see?
How do I want the next scenes to play? What else do I want people to remember when my ship comes in?
How do you live your life in a way that feels memorable, that is something worth remembering when you pass on?
Can you stop? Can you ponder? Can you dream about your lasting impressions?
What is your uniqueness? What is your love? What of your dreams still need to fly?
Live, bold, bright and loud.
You have a mark; you have an impression. Every, single, moment.
Be you. Be it well.
Author: Miriam LeRule
Editor: Travis May