Last 72 Entry

If you want an explanation, read the post below this one. :)



My last 72 hours would come in 3-24hour stages. It would mean dealing with the future that my family is facing without me, enjoying our shared current present, and reconciling my future without them. I really do believe I could leave this earth relatively content knowing that those three things had been accomplished. A good friend of mine, who died of cancer when I was a senior in high school, told me a few weeks before she passed: “My part is easy, all I have to do is die; the hard thing is being around after I am gone.”

My first 24 hours would be leaving something to help my family and loved ones deal with the future they are facing without me. I have always loved to sing; since I was little music was something that has meant the world to me. Because of my passion, and because they don’t mind listening, big family gatherings are often marked with the talents of the younger generation. I sing, my brother plays cello, my sister dances and the cousins perform any number of talents. Though I was on a few tracks as a high schooler, I have never had any sort of solo recordings of my voice. I had always thought it would be nice to have at least one to listen to when I am old and can no longer produce sound the way I do now. Since I am not making it to “old” I would leave it for those that will.

My first 24 hours would be spent attempting to round up as many friends and family members as I could and cutting a CD. There would be a track for my brother to play cello accompaniment on, one with my sister and I giggling some random song we love to dance to, my cousin accompanying me on the guitar, and my mother, grandmother and I doing a trio (we are the only 3 generational family that sing at our church.) I would also do the solo songs that I know each family member loves to hear, and dedicate them to those that aren’t exactly “musically inclined.” At the end I would put a hidden track with a message to my family and friends about how much they mean to me, and that my life, though now cut short, has never been anything less than full because of them.

This disk would be my attempt to live on in a way I know they enjoy, as well as one they could remember me being passionate about.

My second 24 hours would be dealing with the shared current present that I am living right now with the people I love. If I’m going out, I’m going out with a party. My friend was able to help plan her funeral, and though I would probably take out an hour of my last 72 to deal with that type of stuff, it isn’t something I would want to spend a lot of time doing. My Greek and Swedish heritage on my Father’s side as well as the general Irish Catholic nature of my Mother’s side would first dictate that there be immense amounts of food that have to be prepared over the course of the day.

I would get once last chance to cook in the kitchen where I grew up with my mother and sister, one last chance to tell my brother to stop licking spoons, one last chance to blare music and tell my dad to get his butt into the kitchen and help out. There would be every kind of everything that I love to eat. My

Mother makes AMAZING pesto sauce from basil in her garden, which would be matched up with my Farmour’s hand rolled (by myself and younger siblings of course) Swedish meatballs, and spinach pie made by my Papou’s wife. Dad would do something on the grill, my Grandy LaVonne has a recipe for cranberry fluff that my sister loves to make, my Aunt Beth does pie the way some people do religion, my Uncle Paul whips up a mean bread pudding, my Aunt Bridget always brings amazing cheese, and my Aunt Martha would do something she saw on the food network. Everyone would be responsible for bringing “their dish”, the one that they feel best represents what they have contributed to my culinary existence. Everyone (including friends) would be welcome, but all must bring something to the table.

To be honest this party wouldn’t really be about the actual eating itself but everything that comes before it. The Holiday’s are not marked by the lifting of a fork to a mouth, but by what goes on in the kitchen, and the conversation that is had over the meal. My Uncle Paul argues politics around in circles unless he is talking to my Mom who knows how to debate him, my cousin Alex is slowly picking up the talent as well. My younger cousins attempt to stick around for “adult conversation” but peace out once their plates are clear only to magically reappear once dessert is served. My Grandpa Gayl has to sit next to my Grandmother and will take any opportunity to raise a very long toast in her name… and then again in the name of the family… and then again to the goodness of his life; they only get longer with each glass of wine. My boyfriend would sit quietly until someone brought up theoretical physics or skateboarding at which point he would jump into the conversation with much gusto. My Papou (grandfather in Greek) sits at the head of the table and asks how the education is going for each of his grandchildren in turn. My Uncle Peter and Aunt Dara don’t get along with Papou, but they would for me. In the meantime my Aunt Dara would ask about boys, and beer and parties. I would talk with everyone, until someone asked me to sing, probably right after dessert. Food, in my family, is really just an excuse.

The last 24 hours of my life on this earth would be spent solely with my immediate family. I love my boyfriend, I love my best friends, but family is family and there is no getting around that. I’m not married, and I wouldn’t have a chance to start my own, so they are all that I have in the world that is important. This last bit would be squaring away my own future that no longer includes the world I now live in. I was born and raised Catholic and still consider myself to be one, but the spirituality of all creation has always been something that has brought me peace. I’m reading the Qu’ran, I have been to temple, and though my place of worship is in a church, I’ve worshipped in a mosque, and in the forest, and under the stars. My God’s church is the world and so where I am, there too He will be. I would like to receive last rites, I would like to spend a moment of time alone in the sanctuary. This is the same church my siblings and I were baptized in, the same one my Grandmother was married in, and the same one where my Father married my Mother.

I would have a conversation with God, I would cry, and I would laugh, and I would square away all things that have been neglected or left undone between us. The conversation would end with an “Amen” and a “see you soon.”

There wouldn’t be much alone time after that. Every moment would be spent telling my family everything that I’ve been telling them all my life. My family has never been short on I love you’s. I am confident that if I died today while writing this contest entry in the Library of Michigan State University

that each and every family member I have would know that I loved them. Phone conversations, and good bye’s always end with those words, and so chances are, “I love you” would be the last words I had to any given family member. It would be more about telling them the WHY behind my love. Sure, my Mother is my Mother, and so therefore I love her in a certain way “just because”, but I’ve had 21 years of amazing life to build up the love for the four other individuals that make up my family beyond what their relationship to myself might mandate. On top of the conversations we would be having I would leave each of them a letter to open only after I had passed; something physical to look back on when they needed. The night would end on the couch, watching a movie, with my Mother rubbing my back and my dad peeling oranges for the rest of us.

There it is; no big trips, no crazy reconciliations, no emotional confessions and no regrets about how I lived my life.