I typed it in the search bar: How to obtain a death certificate in our state. As it turns out, it’s pretty straight forward, and it costs $25 per copy. Seems like a bargain for proof of the end of a life lived.
I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, nor is my geologist. We are loving the hell out of the life we have, which sounds a lot like heaven on earth to me. But some time, some day, we will die. I will. You will. Everyone will. Death is as much a part of life as birth. They are the two bookends that hold a life between them, and from the moment we arrive we are moving ever closer to leaving. And if that isn’t a call to arms, I don’t know what is. This is what we have. This. Right now. Right here. This moment. This breath. This life. This. This. This. And this again. Every this is a gift, but it’s not a given that there will be more to come. And if that isn’t a call to arms, I don’t know what is. This isn’t a drill. It’s the real deal. Game on.
This could sound all kinds of morbid, depressing, and sad. Or not. Opening our eyes to their inevitable closing makes every day another one worth living. Worth showing up for. Worth giving thanks for. Worth doing the hard work in all its forms for. Worth fighting for. Worth, well, everything.
I printed out the provided PDF for obtaining a death certificate, and added it to the rest of the information that will be useful to those left behind when we have gone on ahead. Information about everything others will need to know, including, of course, the recipe for my famous white sauce.
