I had the strangest feeling the other night.  While watching “The Apprentice” no less.  Sharon Osbourne said something about getting old like her and it hit me, as she sat next to Maria what’s-her-name who is like 20 something, that Sharon was indeed, kind of old.  And I’m older than Maria what’s-her-name which means I MUST BE KIND OF OLD.  Say what?!

Like a bolt of electricity, I seriously got this weird feeling through my body.  Thinking about getting old.  Not being in the bunch that is pregnant and having babies now that my baby is 2.  Thinking about getting older where you can’t drive anymore.  And you repeat stories over and over.  And finally, knowing that your body is wearing out or that you are terminal with an illness and you are just living it one day at a time knowing full well, your life is over.

It’s depressing.  I mean, I believe in heaven.  I believe in eternal life.  But part of me, well, I still find myself being scared.  What does eternal life really mean?  Does it mean I will get to watch my kids ride their bikes on our driveway and giggle?  Can I still put on pretty skirts and put a flower in my hair that makes me feel good?  Can I sip a Starbucks while sitting on my front porch swing and listen to the birds?  Or snuggle up next to my husband on a cool night?  Forever?  Can I do all of those things, forever?

Friends of ours, that are nearing 80++ and then some, have had some health issues as of late.  The husband has terminal cancer.  The wife seems to be slipping into some dementia and has multiple health problems.  Her only son, (from her first marriage – they have no children together, the husband has no children) has tongue cancer.  The gardener (aka my husband) has visited with the husband almost every day for years now as the husband frequently visits the park and his wife usually sends home a pie a week for our family.  The gardener is doing his best to help care for him and take care of things he needs to get done with their house and all the things the wife can’t do.  We now visit him over in the nursing facility where he is at because his wife is afraid to have him at home, feels unprepared to care for his growing needs.  It’s sad.  It’s scary to watch someone in the final moments of life.  One of the peas said in a whisper when we were there last night, “can I ask Bob if I can give him a hug?”.  The gardener said, I think he’d like that.  Go ahead.  And so she asked, “can I give you a hug Bob”.  He said of course and they both got tears in their eyes.  One of them 9 years old, the other almost 90.  I know there’s a heaven but the real human part of me can’t help but to still be frightened about the end.

I don’t want to be separated from my children, ever.  I don’t want to be separated from my husband, ever.  I don’t ever want my parents to not be a phone call away.  I still need them.  I love my life here on earth.  Is that selfish?  Selfish to love this life so much that the thought of eternal life in heaven seems so…unknown, uncertain, so out of my control.

I hope heaven is just like my backyard on a perfect sunny day.  Kids playing and giggling, good food on the grill, and we fall into bed at night with the windows open, a light breeze blowing, and everything is perfect.  That’s my idea of heaven.

xoxo,

Trish