There has been sad news the last two days about the passing of a Dallas fashion icon. Shelly Musselman died this morning of a brain aneurysm suffered while skiing down Aspen mountain with her husband and some dear friends. A beautiful, vibrant, nice woman, Shelly was in her late fifties and this is shocking, for she was fit and healthy in appearance and lifestyle.
I write about this not because I knew her other than a smile shared when we passed in the hair salon or at the organic cafe we both frequented. I write about this not because the most expensive dress I have ever bought came from her elegant shop. I write about this because our days on this earth, in this life, are not a given and we don’t have a crystal ball into which we can peer for answers to our future.
I write about this because events such as this are opportunities for the rest of us to take stock of where we are, attend to some housekeeping details:
My business partner and I discuss the necessity for life insurance our company purchases to protect the survivor should one of us meet an untimely death.
I reaffirm to my daughter that I love her “to pieces”.
I examine the course of my life: note the changes needed, be the person I say I want to be, create the life I feel I am meant to live. Don’t wait.
I tell myself that I love me. Whatever needs to righted on my personal ship, needs to be righted.
Reaffirming what and who is important to me allows me to be sure that my calendar reflects time spent on what I say matters to me.
Every second I draw breath is an opportunity to live out loud, to love until my heart fairly bursts, to laugh until the tears roll down my cheeks, to quietly wonder at the beauty all around me, to be grateful for every drop of every thing that has puddled up to make my life what it is.
Having said all that and with respect for the sudden, tragic loss of this woman to her family, who wouldn’t want to go they way she went? Given the guarantee of a painless, quick death flying down a beautiful mountain as opposed to the prospect of withering away from some debilitating disease in a bed or wheelchair surrounded by a bunch of people doing the same, I would grab at the mountain option.
Life is a tenuous filament, a gossamer wisp, to be cherished with awe…
“I don’t want to forget that the present is a gift
And I don’t want to take for granted
The time you may have here with me
‘Cause Lord only knows another day here’s not really guaranteed.”
Like You’ll Never See Me Again by
Alicia Keys
