But how do you do it, and why do you do it? and how do you undo it?
It all comes from your story. Not what happened, but what you have been saying about it: the story.
I am very aware of my mortality… and my imminent demise. And what I am also very aware of is that no one really wants me to live, other than myself. But is that a story? Or is that the truth… It feels like the truth.
I was pondering this under the covers this morning. How neither of my brothers seem to care whether I am alive or dead. People I help need me because they need my help. But then I started to look at people who help me… and I was surprised to see that they would, at least for a time, miss me, and remember me fondly.