When the End of Life is Near
The Not-So-Subtle Ways the Universe Reminds Us
This morning when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, the lines on my face appeared deeper and more prominent. I felt a little disappointed to see my once smooth face looking more tired than it ever has before.
I’m seventy-two years old, so I suppose some wrinkles are to be expected. But, I’ve never smoked, I eat healthy food, and I exercise everyday. I admit that I felt a little betrayed by my aging skin.
I noticed the place above my eyebrow where the surgeon removed a growth that turned out not to be cancer but left a scar in its place. The surgery made my face unsymmetrical and some days it bothers me more than others.
I’m hardly aware of the other scars on my face from the car accident where I thought I had died. I was a passenger in a car driven by my boyfriend who had consumed too much alcohol. I remember the car leaving the road and crashing into some trees.
The next thing I knew I had a profound sense of being dead and waiting in a column of white light. The utter silence and peace and calm of that experience still lives in a part of my being. I knew that I had died and it was fine. Some time later I would awaken and realize that I was still alive, my friend was unconscious, and that I would need to go and get help.
I walked barefoot through the snow out to the street to find the nearest house. I was aware of the blood pouring down my face but I didn’t feel anything. It was after midnight when the couple answered the door. There was shock on their faces when they saw me covered in blood. They told me to come in and they would call an ambulance. I told them my friend was still unconscious down the road and needed help.
I thanked them for inviting me into their home but I didn’t want to get blood on their carpet. I have no further memory until I woke up in an ambulance. It would take 87 stitches to close up the wounds on my face.
The saintly doctor in the emergency room would tell me that he had just tended to another person brought into the emergency room. He said the other person was the first casualty of the Christmas holiday and that I should be grateful that it wasn’t me.
He wanted to admit me but I told him I didn’t have health insurance. He said he would keep me in the ER until his shift ended the next day. When I see the barely noticeable scars from the car accident I think of his kindness.
I think about the scar on my abdomen from my emergency appendectomy. My appendix burst on the way out and the resulting infection caused half of the stitches to separate. This time I had health insurance that had started that very day. To this day, my scar remains in the shape of a spoon.
The stretch marks on my thighs remind me of the weight I gained while I was growing my two beautiful children inside of me. I’ve never lost the “baby” weight, but the love I gained from having children and grandchildren more than makes up for it.
When I was sixty-nine years old, I wrote a story about never wanting to tell anyone how old I was. But, now I want everyone to know that I’m 72 years old, going on 73.
I’m proud of this body that survived a near-death experience and brought two wonderful human beings into this world.
I love this body that has gone through betrayal, physical and emotional trauma, and unthinkable pain.
I love this body that has loved, laughed, danced, splashed in the ocean, hugged my children and grandchildren, and experienced unimaginable joy!
I know that I am all of my scars (inside and out), my wrinkles and laugh lines, and that I am a portal who brought life into this world.
When I look into the mirror, I am reminded that I have more life behind me than I do in front of me. These wrinkles are the gentle tapping of the universe on my shoulder reminding me to finish what I need to do here, because time is running out.
I’m grateful for the time that I have had here and even for all my scars and wrinkles. And now, I need to finish my mission, before this adventure is over.
