We live and then we die

We live, and then we die…

There are only two givens in our lives… we live, and then we die! It’s that space in between being born and then dying that determines what kind of person we choose to become.  I think we have certain traits passed onto us by our parents; my dad loved to gamble, as do I. My mom was a writer, and I have a newfound love for this as well.

It’s the in-between time that determines if our lives are fulfilling or meaningful, or if we’re wasting time until death finally puts us out of our misery. Good questions, eh? When I sit down here to write, I mostly have no idea what is going to show up on my page. My younger brother’s interment yesterday is still on my mind. He is gone, but I’m still here. I’m the oldest of seven, and there are only the two youngest ones and me still here.

I’m not understanding this at all. A life-changing accident 16 years ago has me living each day as it is. I’m not afraid of dying, and that just gave me an instant aha moment… wow! Is this why I’m still here, I wonder? Is this even possible? Why? So many unanswered questions are now popping up in my head.

Good grief, there is only one thing I want for sure, and I need to share it here for my loved ones, and you know who you are. I’m a nana to my grandkids, and I loved my own nana more than my mom even. I know you understand this, Mom, and even though you are gone, I talk to you and Uncle Gary (also gone) all the time. I want my grandkids to never grieve like I did when my nana died.

I still have dreams of her being alive and waking up, I grieve all over again… shit! These dreams are fewer and farther between as I age, but still very real. I make a point of discussing my death as a matter-of-fact event, for the sole purpose of sparing my own grandkids the grief and sorrow I still experience from my own nanas’ passing.

She was so full of life and giving and… and… omg, she was only 62 years old when she passed. She was bowling one week and dead the next, from a brain tumor.  When someone we love dies, it’s like a part of us dies with them, and just now I totally understand what that means. I know we have to die, and I’m totally fine with this. I accepted it from my own near-death experience all those years ago.

To my brother Bill (we were only one year apart), I do think I’m not that far behind you. My only wish is that I had come out to visit you, even though you didn’t want anyone to do that. Bah Humbug! I wish I could have that to do over again, but I don’t, so you’ll have to wait until I join you on that other plain.

We didn’t spend much time together in later years, and I always made jokes about being on the ‘B’ list whenever you came to town. But this did not bother me in the least. I know you loved me as I loved you; we were siblings after all, and you and I went through a lot growing up together. It was a tumultuous childhood for sure.

A mom pregnant all the time, not knowing how to cook or clean house (she was very spoiled growing up). A dad always working and gambling away his paychecks, he also liked to drink. Mom finally left him when you were eleven, and I was twelve. We were the oldest of six, the youngest Bradly still in diapers, omg!

BUT, we were loved, always… and I never doubted that for a minute. Maybe that is what saved us from becoming like them? I love my kids dearly and made a vow to myself while younger that if I ever had kids, they would NEVER come from a broken home. At what cost, I’ve wondered since, but being older and wiser comes with age.

We do our best with what we know, and that’s all I have to offer. I only wish I would’ve had at least one more visit with you. I got to share with you my book being published, which was our last conversation on the phone. This was in reference to your last visit to Saskatoon and your incredulous disbelief that I actually wrote a book and you made me read you a chapter from it.

I still recall your incredulity that I made up such a good story, and Marlene in the background (you had me on speakerphone) laughing and saying she wanted to buy my book. That it was all true and that I never made anything up was an even better memory from me to you. Ahhhh, brother Bill, you were so naive, but I loved you anyway, and we had that in common. We turned out alright, and we have that in common as well.

Rest in peace. I’ll be on that other side myself soon enough.

Your older and wiser sister.

copyright June 14th 2026

my brother at the top and me on the left in this picture