Living in the presence of death

On Friday 16th August, my Dad called me up to tell me he has cancer.

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK!

We're still in the process of finding out how treatable it is - its lung cancer that has spread and it's not operable.

In the days since, I've been thrown into a twilight realm that I can only describe as "weird".

I've felt sick, angry, anxious, sad, numb and so full of love at times that my heart could burst.

As a practising Buddhist for 13 years, and a coach, I have a lot of tools up my sleeve to work with all the highs and lows that are emerging in this new territory.

I can easily track the physical sensations in my body, the emotional labels for them, and their associated thoughts.

Allowing them to crash around me like waves, without getting overwhelmed.

Like the time the thought "I'm not ready for this" popped up - I felt my body immediately collapse inwards.

This is very different to when I think "We can do this together, whatever happens" - and I can feel my heart open and my body expand with strength.

I'm just watching what appears with kind awareness.

I have a great relationship with my partner, that's built on direct, honest communication.

I know how to say and ask for what I need.

So I could easily tell him at the weekend that I might cry a bit while I'm working, but that's ok.

I also know that when I'm irritable with him, its because of all this going on, and lashing out doesn't help anyone.

That means I can apologise straight away and work out what I need to do instead.

I don't think crying makes me weak and I don't have an issue with the physical experience.

Just how I wrote recently that "Panic attacks are like poos", I take the same approach with grief.

It's a physiological process you need to go through and it's best to work with the body, not against it.

I'm also able to:

• regulate my nervous system with exercise, sleep, relaxation practices and more

• speak openly with my clients which has prompted conversations that have been meaningful and helpful for them

• ask my friends for a chat about what's happening or to talk about something normal or silly

I've found myself in a secret club that I never knew existed.

One of my closest friends from Cambridge lost her mum to cancer just a few years after we graduated.

I feel much closer to her now - I never knew what losing or potentially losing a parent felt like - and I'm so grateful I've got her and a few other friends to speak to about what's going on.

Because I'm so well resourced myself, I hope this means I've been able to show up for my family in ways that work for them too.

I can also feel an existential current going on underneath.

Death is always present as a possibility.

Any day I could receive a call from another loved one. Or I could get ill myself.

When this is much more clearly in our face, life becomes much simpler and more beautiful.

I'm not sweating the small stuff anymore because I know it just doesn't matter.

Everything feels much more..... real.

As hard as this period is, I'm also genuinely experiencing it as a precious opportunity to reflect on what it means to live a good life.

What do I want?

What's really important to me?

Who do I want to spend time with?

What impact do I want to have on other people?

What can I stop worrying about?

What do I want to be my legacy for when I'm gone?

Are these helpful questions for you to reflect on this week too?