I have asked myself those questions: Did I live? Did I love? Did I matter?
They're interesting questions. What does it mean to live, for example? Have I ever skied or surfed? No. In some people's eyes, then, I haven't lived. Then, again, other people might live to ski or surf and, if they can't, they might feel that they haven't lived. What does living mean?
I think I loved. I've loved a few times, not terribly successfully. Occasionally, for a long period. Other times, I haven't done badly. I totally love my children too, but I watch that they don't get smothered by my care and mother love because I want them to have their own lives, their own loves, even if I don't approve. They need space to make the most of my mother love.
Did I matter? Presumably, I've made a difference in a few lives. Given a bit of advice that's helped. I've certainly been free with my examples of home education and encouraged people to think outside the ticky box system that we call education. I'd like to hope that, should I die tomorrow, some folks would shed a tear or come to the funeral. But I wouldn't force them. Funerals aren't fun. At least, I'm not a fan of them.
Did I live? Did I love? Did I matter?
I don't know.
The jury's out - hopefully for a long time to come. I don't think I'm ready to answer those end-of-life questions quite yet. Get back to me in thirty years or so. Eerie, though, how we hoard our ambitions and put off doing til tomorrow what we should have done years ago. Maybe it's a wake-up call to think of the questions we'll be bound to ask ourselves at the end of our journey.
Or maybe I'll ask them later.
Procrastination - an art I'm getting good at.