Lessons Gleaned from Death’s Bittersweet Kisses
Originally printed in the September edition of the magazine Wild Sister – by Melinda Eliza Sabo
What I did on my 2012 summer vacation:
I had surgery on my severely damaged Achilles’ Tendon in late May. Complications from the surgery lead to: multiple blood clots in my lungs and leg, a near-death experience, five additional surgeries, several weeks in the hospital, and a recovery that was nothing short of miraculous. It’s three months later now and I have learned to walk again – both literally and metaphorically. Today I walk through this world as a woman transformed. I am powered by fearless creative energy and a fierce will to explore life. It wasn’t an easy summer of picnics and fireflies, it was an enlightening summer of magic and spiritual revelations. It changed me forever.
A second chance at life is a heady thing. Since my near-death experience, everyone tells me how lucky I am. How blessed. How fortunate. They look at me with sympathy and love and expectation. Somewhere in the telling of my story there is always this odd “My-God-Melinda-you-were-meant-to-do-amazing-things” moment when my audience looks up at me and tilts their heads as if they expect to notice that I now wear a golden halo. At first, these moments freaked me out. My second chance at life seemed so mammoth and so portentous that my heart became heavy with the weight of expectation. I was overwhelmed by the thought that I had some special mission to accomplish. I remember lying in my bed in the ICU thinking groggy, medicated thoughts about how great it would be if the universe sent me a message with clear guidelines and goals for my new life. And then I realized, it already had.
As crazy as it sounds, on the afternoon of June 5th 2012, the universe sent me a somewhat silly and cryptic, yet ultimately profound message about who I truly am. I was lying in the back of an ambulance while worried looking paramedics scrambled around me cursing and attaching me to various machines. I was calm. My body was shutting down and everything was cold and peaceful. As the reality of the physical world grew ever more distant I thanked God for giving me a life full of adventure and love and art. I thought of the people that I hold the most dear and I wished them well. I looked up at the silvery texture of the roof of the ambulance and tried to maintain focus on it as it winked in and out from bright silver to black nothingness. “That’s just like me,” I thought. “I’m the girl who loves crows. I focus in on the shiny bits even as death closes in.”
Here’s where my story becomes surreal. Somewhere in the background I heard the paramedic curse again as he tried to find my pulse. I could no longer feel his hand on my wrist. This was the moment when Death arrived. Perhaps it was just the musings of my oxygen-starved brain, but as I moved into the Grim Reaper’s embrace, I had no idea I’d live to tell the tale of his bittersweet kisses. I surrendered to him and leaned into the kiss. My last three thoughts in this world were a conversation with Death. At first, the conversation seemed like a joke. The ambulance crew later told me that I laughed out loud and frightened everyone working in the then speeding ambulance.
Looking back today, after several months of reflection, I understand the message for what it is: an amazing gift from the underworld. I didn’t know it yet, but those final thoughts held a glimpse of who I truly am and included a lesson in what I’d repressed and forsaken about my authentic self. My conversation with Death created the map for my new journey – for this extraordinary, second chance at life.
Whew – that’s a lot of build up for what will very likely seem ridiculous to you. Feel free to laugh. My last three thoughts were an attempt to convince Death that my unfinished business warranted a second chance at life. They were my protest:
1. I can’t die today, I still haven’t been to Paris!
2. I can’t die yet, I’ve never had sex in a car!
3. I can’t die, I’ve got more dancing to do!
More dancing to do? Really? Clearly Death is wiser than I am (or maybe he doesn’t know that I’m a mediocre dancer) because on the surface, those are three very silly reasons to grant a reprieve. Maybe he’d met his quota for the day. Maybe I was just really lucky. Maybe I’m meant to change the world. Regardless of the reasons, a week later as I lie in my bed in the ICU, I began to understand the deeper meanings of my protests. Each protest represents a power that I’ve lost along the way.
The fiery passion of my wanderlust.
An open mindset regarding romantic love and intimacy.
The physical strength of my body and the joy of freely moving about to the rhythms of the world around me.
Each lost power is now a goal.
I will travel as I’ve never traveled before. I will get lost. Every day I will witness the world around me in all its glorious detail. I will be an explorer of places and of people. Near and far, I will travel as I’ve never traveled before.
I will be a lover who acts with her body and leads with her heart. I will touch another in an act of love without censoring my passion. I will proudly share my naked self with a kindred spirit who will partner me in life.
I will dance like Thom Yorke – wild, free, and without limits. I will dance through life and create art that is free and wild with joy because I know that “free and wild with joy” is the reflection of the most golden, sun-shiniest part of my soul.
These goals are powered by fearless creativity. I wake up each day and ask myself: “What can I accomplish today if I live in the light of fearless joy?” Try it with me tomorrow. Ask yourself this question in the morning and remind yourself of it throughout the day. Notice how the decisions you make are different. As you do, remember this:
We are here to do amazing things.
Every life is a miracle.
You wear a golden halo.
You have a special mission to accomplish.
You already have the power to change your life; you hold it within you right now.
When you tap into this power, each day will hold more laughter, more love, more forgiveness, and more pure, genuine joy.
Only you can unleash this power.
Only you can wield it.
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Saying Goodbye to 2012 and Hello to 2013:
The last three months of 2012 brought me more freedom, strength, and joy than I could have ever imagined when I was lying helpless in the ICU in June. As we leave 2012 behind, I am amazed at all the hard-won, but important lessons I learned. I started 2012 out with an apartment fire, rode out the mid section in the hospital and in intensive physical therapy, and ended the year strong in spirit and recovering in health. Sometimes it’s a lot to take in and the blood thinners and physical pain are still a constant struggle, but when I remember how far I’ve come and how close I came to loosing it all, I am filled with radiant gratitude and a pure joie de vivre. I look forward to 2013. I’m happy to spend a part of it talking about travel and photography with you dear reader. May you live today and everyday in the light of fearless joy.
Melinda Eliza