That's Life: Seize the Day
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Yet I do enjoy most types of music, excluding hard rock, and own a good size collection of classical and contemporary CDs.
From what I have observed, it is acceptable for women my age to weep when Josh Groban sings "You Raise Me Up" or "Where You Are." But people, including my children, are shocked when I admit my heart flutters when I listen to Michael Buble croon "The Way You Look Tonight."
They don't understand that though we shrink in stature as we grow older, our hearts never forget what it is like to be young and in love.
John Denver is also one of my favorites, but I did not own any of his recordings until after my husband, Bill, died six years ago. Although Bill and I had gladly attended concerts by artists such as Shirley Bassey, Johnnie Mathis, Barbra Streisand, Tony Bennett and Billy Joel, we held different opinions as far as Denver's rendition of music.
<L2>"If you are going to listen to that, I'll go into the other room and read," was typical of what Bill said when we were sitting in the living room and I tuned into a TV station that was presenting a John Denver musical special.
In recent years, when I first found out there was a song titled "Live Like You Were Dying," I thought it must be morose. But upon hearing the lyrics, I realized it was truly inspiring. What better advice could we receive than to treasure each day and live it to the fullest.
Sadly for most of us, it is only when we face our own mortality that we agonize over all that we have failed to do in our journey on this Earth - the opportunities we let slip by, the dreams that went unfulfilled because we dared not embrace the challenges they presented, the people we let pass from our lives without revealing how much they meant to us, the time we wasted being worried or angry.
When my husband died, I was distraught, yet I assured my children, Jennifer and Christopher, that I still wanted to live.
Of course, it would take some time before my heart healed and I began behaving as my husband would have wanted: seizing each day.
As I sit home writing this, freezing rain is striking the window panes, and on TV stations, reports of school closings and other cancellations drone on. I am frustrated for icy conditions prevent me from keeping an appointment I scheduled over a month ago.
And, I will not be able to use the day to "Live Like I Was Dying," as all I can do is fill the hours with mundane household chores.
Before tackling those tasks, however, I call a dear friend and we commiserate on being stuck in the house. Then she says, "At least, you can lose yourself in writing."
Hmm, I thought. So, the wash is still piled in the hamper, the dishes are still in the sink, and I am meandering in that wonderful land of escape, where my muse is my best friend and the computer is my obedient servant, pasting and deleting at my command.
Truth be told, writing fiction and nonfiction is the way I spend a few hours most days.
Thus you might say that today I am following the example of St. Francis who has been quoted as saying, "If I knew this was my last day on earth, I would do what I do every other day."
But as soon as possible, weather permitting, I will resume "Living Like I was Dying" in full speed. After all, I have to make up for today.
Phyllis McGuire is an occasional contributer to iBerkshires.com. She lives in Williamstown.
