In morning group today, we talked about death. Not in a morbid way; more in a “how do you want to be remembered?” way. I don’t like thinking about death, but Heather made us all talk. The funny thing is, group actually made me feel better.
“What do you want written on your tombstone?” Heather leaned forward, like she was trying to stare into our souls. I crossed my arms over my stomach, like my soul was hanging out in there with my partially digested breakfast.
“‘Here lies Ali’?” Ali finally said. “‘She lived a long, long life.’”
“‘Laura lived to be one hundred and twenty.’”
“Let’s go a little deeper.” Heather adjusted her glasses. I may not like Heather, but I do like her glasses. They’re blue with gold polka dots. I wonder if Talia would approve of Heather’s frames.
“Some people have ‘Beloved Mother’ written on their tombstone,” Heather said. “Or ‘Friend.’ ‘Dear Wife.’ Some people have their occupations. Their passions. ‘Writer.’ ‘Engineer.’ ‘Dog lover.’ Some people’s just say their name.
“What do you want written on your tombstone?” Heather asked again. “‘She was skinny’? ‘She spent her life on a diet’? ‘She could have been an astronaut, the president, a concert singer, a mother, a friend … except she spent too much time counting fat grams’?”
We talked about what our eating disorder is stopping us from doing. We talked about who we can be without it. It made me realize something: every second of every day, no matter what I weigh, my life is going by.
I don’t want to waste one more second of it.
Here Lies Riley Logan, aged 102.
She lived a long, happy, and healthy life.
She was a good friend.
She was good at art. She might not have been the greatest ever, but she worked hard.
She listened and learned.
She liked to read.
She was a nice sister.
Everyone liked to be around her, because she made them feel better.
She was funny.
Those would be nice things to have on my tombstone.