"It's a Good Day to Die"

I've been pondering the phrase “It's a good day to die.” I've always equated these words with those movies having American Indian themes where this phrase is written into their scripts as the thing one Red Man says to another before they go into battle. Taken in that context, my perception is that it's a macho statement; conceited, warrior-like, and selfish. No matter what the squaw and her kiddos are going to do left back at the tee pee without their provider. No matter that these beautiful hunks of filmdom bodies will be destroyed on a battlefield.

My husband never used those words in his last days. What he did do was have me help him into his recliner draped with the hide of a young buffalo. He settled his beaver bag filled with his chanupa into the crook of his left arm and with a cup of coffee nearby. From this vantage point, he watched the Earth come awake. What he thought or what insights he gained there I'll never know. He was too weak to tell me. His consciousness wasn't in the realm of forming words or concepts. My guess is that he was just experiencing the morning, being in it, and relishing every second of the coming of the light. I was the one who thought the words as I padded back to bed.

So I tested these words out loud on myself recently. “It's a good day to die,” I said to all that was around me. My system shocked awake. Muscles grew taut. I instantly wanted to take the words back in case some force beyond me heard them and decided to take me up on my thought.

“Erase . . . Erase,” I said until I realized my muscles weren't frozen in fear. They were on an edge, ready for something.

Ready for what?

Not war or destruction, and definitely not dying.

But ready for life, for living to their fullest extent. To do whatever was in front of them, be it hauling in wood, writing the next novel, sitting in the warmth of the fire and listening to the rain on the roof.

Just ready.

My Choice In the Matter

A long time ago I learned how to wallow in the self-satisfaction of misery. When my Dad was overseas, I could use the emotion of missing him to get out of all kinds of trouble. The stance of shoulders bent forward coupled with an unsmiling face got me lots of attention from peers and teachers and fit right in with my mother's demeanor. We were a pair of martyrs; yes, we were.

We suffered through birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, while he was away; not quite letting ourselves enjoy our being together because HE wasn't there. The truth of the matter was that those events when celebrated with him in the house weren't that memorable either. Nothing stands out in my mind unless I review the photo album where a picture can bring a draft of a memory. Unfortunately, other memories around my relationship with my father arise, and I'd rather not go there.

I can also remember fabricating reasons to be glum. Face it, in our society, a Pollyanna is often outside the circle of individuals who would prefer to recount tragedies and fears rather than look at the positives in life.

Gradually I stepped out of the martyred role I shared with her. I'm glad now, because I could easily don the cloak of widowhood and let it suffocate me. Sure I cry and wail and rant when my body is so tight with grief I am sinking into despair. Expressing the emotions moves me onto the next plateau of recovery. If I held them in, I'd become numb to myself and to the world around me. That's something I definitely don't want to do.

I want to live, and live fully. If that means struggling through an hour or a day and night of tears and whining, I'll do it. In fact, I've done it already. When coming into the second day of it, I found I was almost bored. It was enough for then, so I stopped.

I found I have many decisions to make; I have to gather my wits about me to understand my options.

So here's the jist of it now! I could choose to be miserable every single moment of every day, OR, I can choose to feel my feelings, express them, move on to face the challenges I have of living alone in the woods and make the best of it. I'm choosing the latter.