with whatever time is left

I've just arrived back from Elliot Mortuary from paying my last respects to a wonderful woman who was a teaching colleague of mine from 2000-2003.  


  Cindy Beshore was a mentor to me when I taught foreign language at Hutchinson Middle School's  7th grade center.  I had spent the last 25 years teaching 6 and 7-year olds and the move to spending my days with kids from 12-14 years of age was QUITE the culture shock.  Cindy Beshore was a "calming" voice in what, some days, seemed like a "sea of middle-school chaos." 


 If I had a question about something or just simply needed someone to listen to me venting, it was Cindy that I always managed to seek out.  She never failed to  give me the advice I needed to make it through the day, the week or the 9-week's period.  Her passing leaves such a void in the lives of many people here, students and adults as well.  U.S.D. 308 students and staff were truly blessed by the gift of her presence.


When I read the story about her death in the paper this morning, it mentioned the fact that she developed her own "bucket list" upon learning that her death would be imminent.  Cindy set about in a feverish attempt to accomplish as much as she could with what time was left for her.  As I read about  the various things she wanted to do, including providing her parents with what they needed to be comfortable in their older years, it was a reminder of just how important the development of my bucket list is to me.


I have often wondered if my own list would look different if it was made with the knowledge that my life would soon be over--as is the case with so many who suffer from diseases like cancer.  What if I only had the time and strength for a list of 5 things instead of 10?  Would power parachuting one more time be nearly as important as seeing a lighthouse in Maine? How is the development of a bucket list different  when you are a reasonably healthy 55-year old like me instead of a 60-year old woman with terminal cancer, like Cindy was?  It forces me to stop and think........

This is my sister, Janice.  Here she is in her senior picture as a member of the class of 1959 at Burrton High School.  I was her  little 4 -year old sister when she was this age.  10 years later, she was dead...the victim of an auto accident.  She's been gone so many years now that, sadly I admit, I don't even remember much about her. Even though her stay was brief, Janice put a lot of life into those 27 short years here on earth.  


Now, in the summer of my 56th year, I've been afforded twice the amount of years that my sister was. I've learned, by paying the price of losing a sister at such a very young age, to appreciate each year that God gives us.  Every continuing birthday that I am blessed with by God is just one more year that she never received.


  So when I look in the mirror and see a wrinkle or remind my friend Kalisha to be on the lookout for gray hairs, I do so with the realization that they are the proof of the gift of advancing years.  I'm pretty sure the terminology of "bucket list" hadn't been thought of in those words in 1969.  Yet, if it had, I wonder what Janice's bucket list might have included?  Remembering the bits and  pieces that I do about her, I'm positive the #1 item would have been the following:


"To see my daughters grow into adulthood and to be a grandma."


Friends as you are most well aware of, each of us is "terminal".....we are born to die at some point in time in life.  We know not when.....  If you so desire to develop a "wish list" be sure to include those things that are most meaningful in your life.  What do you hold "near and dear" to you?  It need not be expensive--it need only be worth the time you invest in doing it.  And remember, time spent is never found again.


To my friend, Cindy....Thankful that you had time to take care of some of the "Beshore Bucket List".  Much obliged to you for taking me "under your wing" and "showing me the ropes" those many years ago at HMS 7. I'll see you again in Heaven, dear friend. 


A portion of a favorite poem of mine:


From "The Dash", a poem by Linda Ellis, 1996
(the first 4 verses)


I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning to the end.


He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears.
But he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between the years.


For that dash represents all that time
that she spent alive on earth 
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.


For it matters not how much we own
the cars....the house....the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend the dash.