Living in a small community as I do and hanging out with women who are seniors like I am is teaching me to prepare for the last part of life. Death is not something to fear or waste precious time dreading; it is just inevitable.
My mother passed away almost four months ago at age 91. She and I talked often about the process of taking a last breath and guessing at what comes next. We reasoned that since no one had actually come back to tell us all what to expect, we are only able to imagine with our puny earthly minds how it will be after we discard the baggage of bodies.
Some of my closest friends are twenty years older than I am. A few friends have passed away and I watch with interest how the families and friends celebrate their lives and honor their existence.
I have no family within a thousand miles of me. Nothing I own is of interest to any of my children, having given each of them anything they would want years ago. I am in the process of planning and pre-paying for the disposal of my body and possessions when it is necessary. There is nothing wrong with being prepared; in fact, it is irresponsible (in my opinion) to leave the final decisions and hassle to someone else.
If there is one thing that people will remember about me, I would like it to be that I was a survivor, that I believed I could do anything and proceeded to accomplish it. The mistakes made along the way were just learning tools.