What do you want on your tombstone?

I'm following the train of thought I got on with the Death, Hearts and Plastic Slipcovers post...
Right now I'm finishing a review of the book the five secrets you must discover before you die, by John Izzo. Izzo (and pals) interviewed a couple hundred folks over 60 - to draw on their wisdom. In a chapter entitled "the second secret: leave no regrets" he says:
"It became evident that at the end of our lives we will not regret risks we took that did not work out as we hoped. Not one person said they regretted having tried something and failed. Yet most people said they had not taken enough risks."
Contemplating our own demise (just a little - because - jeez, that could get morose - grin) is a good way to make decisions about risk - is it worth it? isn't it? How will this look to me when I'm 107? When I'm dead?
I used to ask clients to tell me what they wanted on their tombstones. I don't want to scare anyone away from getting therapy after reading about my techniques - I was a little more subtle - and only did this with folks I had a trust-based relationship with. Never just jumped at them the second they came in the door..."Hi buddy, listen you're not looking so good. Have a seat, and hey...What do you want on your tombstone?"
I love how you can get under resistance and fear by looking at the bigger picture. And - for reviewing our lives - making sure we're doing what we feel we're here for - there's nothing like remembering that we aren't going to live forever. So, lately I've been trying to remember those things (that we aren't here forever and that we can use that knowledge to evaluate our lives) when it comes to any kind of communication.
I feel like connection is at my core - one of the big things I'm here for. But I spent a lot of my life hiding my heart - even from myself. So putting my heart "out there" feels risky sometimes (ok, all the time). I'm doing it more and more often anyway. And the greatest reward I've gotten from that risky behavior is that I've made connections with other folks who dare to risk their hearts.
I have about 408 stories around this topic - but right now I want to just sit back on the train (of thought) and roll through landscapes of gratitude. And think about what I want on my tombstone...
I want mine to say: "She saw and heard us for who we are. She touched our hearts by sharing hers. She helped us share our core." (Yeah, you didn't expect it to be short, did you?) I need a poetic rewrite of that - but that's the message, even if it's not worded well yet.
So - what do you want on YOUR tombstone?
(Photo copyright 2008 Lauren Caterson)


