The Dark Side
Sorry, no cookies.
Before I begin this journey into the innermost workings of my heart and soul, I would like to say one thing. It’s DEFINITELY. Not definately. D-E-F-I-N-I-T-E-L-Y. There’s even a website.
*whew* Glad I got that off my chest.
One of my friends is having some medical testing done this week for something that could be serious, and she was telling me how she feels like she needs to have so much stuff in order, just in case. Even just in case she has to be kept overnight in the hospital. She wants to have the laundry done, the house cleaned up, and have information out so her husband and other family members know what kid needs to go where when, etc. She’s even given thought to putting on paper the kinds of things she would like said at her service.
I know just what she’s talking about.
I am so happy that The Husband and I were not squeamish about taking care of our wills. I told him I didn’t care if we only had two pennies to our name, we were designating where each one was going! Somewhere I have a list of all my various accounts with the logins and passwords so all of the friends I have living in the computer would be able to find out if something happened to me.
You may call that morbid, I call it practical.
My friend was talking about how she’d like someone to read something she’d written about those that were especially special to her. I’ve thought about that before, a little something to tell my loved ones just how much I love them, what they’ve done for me, etc.
I’ve never actually done it though. First of all, it would take forever. Secondly, every time I think about doing it, I wonder why these people have to find out they’re special to me after I’m gone. Why am I not telling them now? Is it pride? I don’t want my family and friends to know that they mean so much to me? I don’t want to make myself vulnerable, telling someone how much they’ve done for me only to have them look at me like I have two heads?
Long ago, when I was a member of one of the best youth groups EVER, our youth minister had us do something called “Warm Fuzzies.” (Geez, I’m such a wimp, tears are already coming to my eyes.) We would get in a circle, and everyone had two warm fuzzies. One by one we would sit in the middle of the circle, and two or three people would come up and present you with a little fuzz ball and tell you something they liked about you, or why they loved you.
Maybe I need to suck it up and be the two-headed freak that goes around and tells people how great I think they are. Maybe I need to be warmer and fuzzier. Would that be difficult? Sadly, yes. Would it be worth it when it’s all said and done? Definitely.