The significance of 9/11

Today, the day that everyone remembers as 9/11, is also my father’s birthday. And I find it fitting that his birthday is on a day that has had such historical significance for those of us who were alive on 11 September 2001. That day started like any other day and so many people did not get to see the end of that day…

 

And I remember exactly where I was on that day. My dad was meant to have taken me to university that day, because I had lectures. And he was angry, so he left for work without driving me to university. I was left to figure out by myself how I would get to campus to attend my lectures. I had asked a friend if he would be willing to let me ride with him that day, and I was waiting for him to pick me up, when I learnt about the twin tower attacks on the news.

 

Most of my family did not learn about the attacks until much later in the day. Our own family drama had distracted them from even noticing what was going on in the world around them. And so it was in our family. Drama. So much drama, especially around special days like birthdays or anniversaries… It was like we had an aversion to any form of celebration or acknowledgment.

 

And so it was for many years on my dad’s birthday. He would always find a way to sabotage his own birthday. He would get angry over trivial things so he could storm off and be by himself. He would lose his temper and there would be arguments and violence, instead of celebration and joy. What I now realize is that he probably never believed he deserved to be celebrated.

 

There is that word: deserving. For so many years of my life I struggled with what I deserved or didn’t deserve, believing that everything had to be earned. Everything had to be worked for. Nothing was merely given. And if I didn’t excel in everything, then there was no point in acknowledging or celebrating any of it.

 

This year, on what would have been my father’s 69^th birthday, there are three things I’m doing differently that stem directly from deep life lessons learnt in watching my father suffer in his final days and losing him.

 

Firstly, I consciously chose to block out this day, and clear my schedule. I decided that today I would not hold space for anyone or help anyone else carry their pain. I do this every other day of my life, and I do it with honour, love, compassion, and a willing heart. And today, gets to be about my grief, and giving myself space to cry the tears that have wanted to be cried for days now. Today gets to be a slow day of reflection.

 

So, I did not schedule any client calls for the day. I fiercely protected this space in my calendar. I realized that life would still go on on this day. Schools and stores would still open on this day. I would still do the morning and afternoon school run, AND, I blocked out time for my heart to just be broken.

 

I received a message from my best friend. She let me know that she sees me – my quiet strength and persistence, even in the face of deep grief, and she reminded me that it was ok to take a break. I didn’t need the reminder, and I nonetheless appreciated it, because it was affirming what I already knew, and had already chosen for myself.

 

Secondly, I chose to celebrate the man who shaped so much of who I am today. The man whose love and approval I worked for all my life, and felt like I could never have. The man who I could see so much of myself in, and where I know I got my resilience, spirited persistence, and stubbornness from. I chose to honour those final moments, and all the other memories in between. I chose to let gratitude and grief both be here, as I went for a long walk and thought about him, as I sat down to write about what I had learnt from him, as I listened to his favourite songs, and the songs that remind me of him, and as I chose to eat food I know he would have loved.

 

Even though he is not here to celebrate his own birthday, I’m choosing to celebrate him, and everything I learnt from him. I’m choosing to celebrate for all the times he chose not to, or didn’t believe that he had earned the right to slow down, to savour, to celebrate.

 

Lastly, today, more than ever, I’m reminded of the precious gift that Life is, and how none of us know how much time we actually have on this earth. I’m reminded of the importance of living as every day is your last day on this earth, because one day, you will be right about that…

 

And I will be cheeky enough today to quote myself. Five years ago, I wrote about death, and I had some wise insights that feel like they might be evergreen…

 

We all delude ourselves into thinking that we have plenty of time and we ignore the reality of death. Consequently, we often live in fear of life. We don’t want to try new things or get uncomfortable. We fret about what people will think of us. We fear mistakes and failures. We put off trying new things, because it feels too risky; when the greatest risk we face, is the unlived life.

 

 

Don’t you want to live before death comes? Live fully and unashamedly? Live with rigour and joy? And savour every precious second as if it were your last? The truth is, one day, it will be your last day. It will be your last conversation, your last hug, your last meal, your last laugh, your last tear, your last breath…

 

 

So, why not let go of that scared part of you that won’t let you live fully? Be willing to say what needs to be said, and do what needs to be done. Be willing to be fully present without being afraid what will happen in the next moment. That’s what happens to people who face death. They stop fearing death, and they grab hold of every precious second. They stop caring what others think. They tell the people they love that they love them. They do the things they’ve been putting off for years. They stop procrastinating on their life, because they are conscious of the last grains of sand trickling through the hourglass…

 

 

Here is the irony though, we are all facing death every moment. We all have that hourglass with the trickling sand. Just because no-one has given us the timeline, it doesn’t mean that our time is not running out. In Singer’s words, the only thing there is to “get” from life, is the experience itself. Life is not something you get. It’s something you experience. And every experience is worth having – even the uncomfortable ones or the painful ones. According to Michael Singer, we fear death because we crave life. You fear death because you think there is something you haven’t experienced yet. You don’t need more time before death. What you need is more depth of experience before death.

 

If you think you must go out and do something before you die, you might miss out on the actual experience in front of you. Your time here on earth is so brief and it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. You get to LIVE. You get to experience what it’s like to experience life through a body and through your senses. The human experience is truly unique. You get to experience love and pain, joy, anger, frustration, sorrow and everything in between. You get to decide what you want to create, what you want to learn, how you want to grow…

 

 

You don’t have to change your life. You just change how you live your life. Let every moment fill you to the depth of your being.

 

 

Death gives you one more gift. It teaches you that everything is temporary. Even negative experiences shall pass. If you wait long enough this too shall pass. Feel grateful to death for giving you another day, another experience. And for creating the scarcity that makes life so precious. If you do this, your life will no longer be yours to waste. It will be yours to appreciate. Live your life as though you are on the verge of death, because you are.