My oldest daughter has made an unusual request for her 14th birthday gift this year — a chicken suit. Her birthday is in May so she’s making sure I’m aware of the request early enough so I have no excuses. She provided a website and a price and an explanation…it’s #1 on her “bucket list”. Like any good mother of a soon-to-be 14-year-old, I skipped the part about the chicken suit (I’ll come back to that in a minute) and immediately focused on the bucket list.
“A bucket list? Why do you have a bucket list?”
“Duh, it’s things I want to do before I kick the bucket — you know, die.”
“I know what a bucket list is, I don’t like it. Can it just be a life list?”
“No, that’s stupid…it’s a bucket list.”
And so ended the conversation about the bucket list — with her at least. The conversation continued in my mind… I listed all the reasons I did not want her to even think about kicking the bucket much less to have a “to do” list to accomplish before that day arrives.
I know death.
It’s real to me.
I envy people who have made it through life without experiencing the death of someone they love. I’m not one of them. I’ve been to too many funerals, said good-bye too many times, wished for one more conversation far too often. I could list them, but I won’t. But, the list includes aunts and uncles who I loved and who loved me, an older cousin whose friendship I cherished and who loved me and let me follow her around, my grandparents who I spent every summer of my life with (including every birthday — yes, even sweet 16), two very close friends who died during our college years, a brother-in-law who taught me how to play the guitar and tennis, and my parents. I’ve had at least one student from the class I used to teach die unexpectedly on her way to school one morning, and I had a young boy die in my arms at school on a beautiful sunny spring day.
I know death.
I’ve seen it, many times.
I have a bad habit of telling everyone to “be careful”. When I leave a phone call, “be careful”. When I sign off an email, “be careful”. When I write a card, “be careful”. Because I know…
When I don’t hear from a friend or family member when I know they’re traveling or just out, my mind immediately goes to the place of “something happened”. I’m the one who tells you to call or to text when you get there, just so I know.
So, back to the bucket list.
I have a bucket list I suppose. Things I need to do before I’m no longer a part of this world. I’ll share #1 with you if you promise not to tell anyone… #1 – meet Cher. Yes, that Cher.
So, my soon-to-be 14 year-old gorgeous, intelligent, witty, fiercely independent daughter’s bucket list — the one that makes me cringe in fear just to type those words — #1 on her list… run through downtown Nashville wearing a chicken suit. I’ll help her accomplish this (and oh yes, I’ll video it!) because my life experiences aren’t hers, my fears aren’t hers, my worries aren’t hers. I’ll help her accomplish her bucket list, and I’ll try not to tell her to “be careful”.
Becky, wow! That was moving! Loved reading that. I think it’s great to have a bucket list, even if you’re young. I’m also envious of ppl that way too. I have that same habit of telling people to be careful, but I not sure why I’m saying it. Maybe it’s because I’m a bit of a worrier. Or, that I’m getting older. Or, it’s because I’ve also lost people, like you, too soon. A very close friend. The sudden death of my mother – basically in the hospital on a Friday and dead the following Monday morning. Then, my grandmother 9 months later. Maybe those are the reasons because I can say I’ve never been the same since. But, on the other hand, it has (as trite as it sounds) made me realize how short life is and that you may not make it to that age where you can enjoy your retirement. I need to live now and let the people I love live also. I need to let the people in my life try things, do things, & not try and stifle them. I don’t really have a bucket list, other than the desire to travel to places I haven’t been. I wish I knew Cher so I could set up a meeting for you ;-). Anyways, a wonderful entry that let us look into your soul. Keep writing.
Thanks Linda — always good to see you here!
My daughter really through me for a loop with her bucket list — scary, real, profound to think about. She has some good things she wants to do!
Death can make you re-think many things in your life — especially how to handle relationships.
When I see you type “be careful”, I will now know how sincere. You can feel the same when you see “be safe” or “take care” in my stream. >>hug<< (practicing again)
True Sue! And I always want you to be careful when you’re helping your animals on the farm!
ps — you’re getting really good at the hugs!
I wish I could say something profound here other than I know of what you speak. My own life and attitude towards it changed completely when I sat with my father the night he died. Everyone told me that it could be days, even the hospice nurses. Somehow I just knew. He died at midnight.
But, I forgot the message of “live everyday” until I had an accident last fall. My vehicle was totalled and I walked away. But since then I have slowed down my life and am trying to live each minute. I am surrounding myself with people who care and letting go of those who don’t.
Thank you for being so open like this. You make me think and feel again. I have been a little lost. So many parts of me that I have closed off are now opening. I want to write again and more inportantly, I now think I can.
I’ve been reading your blog — it’s very good, you should write.
Thank you for this wonderful comment and compliment!
Oh boy. That’s rough. A young teen with a bucket list. I feel your anxiety, as a mom myself. It’s our job to worry about that. But I also think it’s great that you will help her & the video will be a sweet reminder for you & her family in the future 😉
I’ll be sure to share the video! Thanks Kristin.
Of course you worry when your 14 year old comes to you with a bucket list…you’re a Mom who, unfortunately, understands the wretchedness and finality of death all too well. And yet…how wonderful that you will get her the chicken suit and video tape her craziness…she really is a chip off the old block…and won’t you both have a wonderful memory no one can ever take away. And remember Becky, although it’s called a bucket list as in “kick the bucket”, it can also be thought of as a “fill my life”…perspective, girl. Oh, and while I’m not quite sure about your desire to meet Cher, I wish you the best!!
Never underestimate the power of Cher!
Thanks Laurette!
I’ll secretly call it a life list (she’ll never know).
I have mixed emotions ~ tears and sorrow for all of your heart’s losses and joy that you’ve done another post so soon. It’s really not surprising that your amazing daughter has a bucket list though ~ she lost all of those dear ones, too. You are an exceptional mother, Becky, and I love that you’ll support your child in running down the street in a chicken suit! Even now, when my daughter is 38 with children of her own, I still ask her to “call me when you get there.” I never end a phone call, email, text message, letter or visit with the precious people in my life without telling them that I love them. Every time you see a *hug* from me on Twitter, know that it comes filled with love for you. *big squishy hugs*
I like to make sure the people that I care about know I’m thinking about them, even when we’re not together.
She is an amazing girl — I look forward to filming the scene (hope we don’t get into trouble!).
Thank you Dani!
Your daughter is one of the bravest people that I have ever heard of. As someone that has been around more than my fair share of death I think that it is healthy and great that your daughter is aware of her mortality. Sounds like she is “attacking” life and going to be one that really lives, instead of watching it all pass by. Please, please post the video of her running in the chicken suit. That is going to give me a great laugh.
John
Thanks for reading! Yes, she is very special. Thanks.
By the way…if you need any assistance with “The Chicken Caper” on the streets of Nashville, I’m IN!! I’ll clear the streets, drive the getaway car…whatever!
Sounds like the making of a great movie caper (I like that word, caper)!
I would never imagine that I could do this. This-open and very public sharing of my life. But, I do it for you. With the hope that I help you heal and find peace in the moments before saying “be-careful”. I haven’t talk about losing my mom as a kid, to anyone. It is still very difficult to recount. FOR REALS. But, I want to tell you why I envy you. My mom died in my arms-sort of. A concern fireman pulled me away to begin CPR on her. Another fireman had to restrain me to keep me from running back to her. I really can’t remember very much. I went into some kind of coma-and short-term amnesia. What the fireman did not understand is that I just wanted to say good-bye. I want those few minutes people get in the hospital or hospice. Becky, I knew she was gone. I had forgotten my name, date, year, etc.-amnesia was weird. Must be like being hi on drugs or something like that. It was so obvious to me that she was gone-that when my dad came to my hospital room, I did not know my name or his-but I told him that I knew that my mom was gone. So, your last few moments with your mom were a blessing-painful but healing gift. My second big blunder was the “I am okay I don’t have to go to the funeral” speech. All my relatives tried to convince me to go to the funeral. I confidently explained that “I prefer to remember her how she was”- not dead. BIG MISTAKE. I needed that good-bye, that was an unexcusable mistake on my part. Becky, your parents funerals were special and healing “good-byes”. I can’t even get myself to say “be-careful” to my friends. Saying be-careful triggers too many fears and feelings that I can’t deal with. So, I like to say to you and others that bless my life..I love you. And I love your blogs. As you heal and blog be thankful that you grew up with two very cool parents. Be thankful that you had them at prom, graduation, your wedding, your kids birth etc.. Keep blogging about all those blessed moments cause you’re helping me heal, too. LOVE YA, NACHA!!
Oh my Esqueleta! You are so brave to tell your story anywhere, especially here! You telling that story will help countless people — you’ll see! I’m so grateful that we are in each other’s lives and that you are here in my “other” life (although I did write a post about the sensory processing difficulties of children with autism and how it relates to my obsession with vacuuming!)
Love you Esqueleta!!