Today’s post comes from guest author Elyzabeth Wilder, creator of 40 Lunches, and is part of a series called On Her Way. Each of these posts features a woman telling her own story in her own words. If you have a story of transformation to tell and would like to be featured here, please get in touch via the Contact link above.
When I was little a friend of the family asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said, “A child prodigy.” In my mind, greatness began early and unless I was a prodigy I would never truly be successful. Where that came from, I don’t know. My parents did not hover or have unrealistic expectations. I seemed to come into the world driven.
But a lot of the drive, that fire, died along with my mother.
When my mother was dying I was unsure what to expect. We had traveled to Sloan Kettering for a second opinion after being told chemo was useless. When a doctor asked why she was there she said, “I have scheduled a cruise down the Rhine in June.” He responded, “You might want to get your money back.” And so she did.
Instead she opted to eat a macrobiotic diet in an attempt to buy more time. But when it was clear that the end was near, she gave up raw food and proclaimed that she planned to go out bathed in hot fudge.
And that’s exactly what she did. My mother’s final meal was a slice of pizza and a hot fudge sundae, and her last words were, “I want to get off my ass.” No deathbed poetry like you see in the movies.
It was a death we should all aspire to. She died in the home she grew up in, overlooking the lake she swam in as a child. There was music playing in the background and she was surrounded by the people she loved.
It was her final words that kept me going on those days when living seemed impossible.
She died ten years ago. In those cloudy days that followed, ten years without her seemed unimaginable. At the time none of my friends had lost their mothers, but as I get older more and more are joining this club that no one wants to be a member of.
We all inevitably imagine what our lives will be like at the various milestones in our lives. I never imagined I’d be saying goodbye to my mom when I turned 30. And I’m certainly not where I thought I’d be at 40. It’s not a bad place by any means; I just took an unexpected path.
I’ve realized that happiness often depends on the lens through which we view our lives. We all have our own definition of success and I have found mine. If we spend too much time thinking about how our lives don’t match up to the dreams of our younger selves, then we are bound to be disappointed. That flame has been rekindled as the years have passed, but my definition of success has changed.
As 40 approached, I thought to myself, What do you hunger for? What do you want? I always need a project. If I don’t have something to focus on I end up dating inappropriate people. I’ve learned from that mistake. So as 40 approaches I want to make the year count.
I’ve decided to take 40 people out to lunch: people who helped shape the first 40 years and people I hope will inspire the next 40. I’m documenting the experience at 40 Lunches. I want to pay back the meals I’ve been fed. I want to connect with people who inspire me and thank those who have helped make me the person I am today. I want to spend the year bathed in goodness. But most of all, I want to get off my ass.
Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder is an award-winning playwright whose work has been produced at the Royal Court in London, Alabama Shakespeare Festival, Denver Center, and Hartford Stage, among others. She currently teaches at Sewanee: The University of the South. You can follow along at 40 Lunches and learn more about her writing at www.wilderwriting.net.
2 Comments
What a beautifully inspiring piece. I love, love the idea of 40 lunches – I look forward to reading more… 🙂
Um….wow! I can completely relate to feeling as though your life didn’t measure up to your childhood goals, but for different reasons. I couldn’t imagine losing my mother at 30. Thank you for sharing and for sharing the wonderful idea of the 40 lunches.