EDITOR’S NOTE: Bill Stamps had completed his next column for the Times Free Press before his death on March 10. Along with the column, his wife, Jana, sent the words to a song he wrote not long ago and one of her favorite photos of him.
You know what’s great about life? Everything. From time to time, it may not seem like it. But regardless of your sufferings, it’s much better to be alive. Ask a dying man what he’d like the most, and he’ll tell you “more life.” Another year or two, another month, another day. Just more life.
I’ve held dying men in my arms over in Vietnam and seen them suck in their last breath of mortal air before they left Earth to be with their Maker. Watching life fade away leaves an indelible and unforgettable impression. A hole in your heart that never heals. One minute, they’re with you, and the next minute they’re gone.
I know several people who have experienced near-death experiences, myself included. It’s true that your whole life flashes before you. If you make it through, something clicks inside. The little things in life mean more. You appreciate breathing.
I’m just past 72. That makes me an official senior citizen. According to those who keep track of these sorts of things, I’ve been one for a while. Hard to believe that I’m still here.
I never planned on living this long. I don’t think anybody who knew me back in the day thought so either. This is the first time in my life that I’ve had some spare time on my hands. I keep looking around for things to do. Old habits die hard.
At this point, there’s not much wrong with me. Not sure if it has to do with my genes or, as my grandmother, Miz Lena, used to say, “a strong constitution.” My only living blood brother and I have no way of tracking some of our family’s medical history.
My father’s mother died from complications giving him life. Dad’s father skipped town and left him with his grandparents on the Stamps side of the family. What I do know is that most of the Stamps family live well into their 80s.
It’s pretty much a slam dunk that they’re all up there basking on the beaches of eternity. They were all good Christians. I’m afraid I can’t say the same. You might say that my halo’s a little rusty.
I’ve had invitations from fine folks to come to their church services. I fear for their safety. I’m pretty sure, the minute I entered their house of worship, the walls would tremble and fall. I’m hoping that my last years left will make up for some of my naughty past years. We’ll see.
Other than an occasional aspirin, I don’t take any prescribed medicine. I’ve maintained my weight and rarely go to the doctor. I’m fortunate that way.
So many of my fellow senior-citizen friends and associates have had heart attacks, strokes, knee and hip replacements, mental issues or have passed on. I’m pretty sure that I qualify for the mental-issues category. On some level, these days I think we all do. It’s kinda crazy out there.
I still wake up every morning thanking God for another glorious day. I learned to do that from a childhood acquaintance, Mr. Jenkins, an old war hero. If it weren’t for my wife, Jana, I probably would have found a way to slide on outta here. I’ve had some dark years.
I’ve told Jana not to waste money on a tombstone and burying me on a hill in a cemetery with others that have passed on before me. Doubtful that I’ll know any of them.
Just turn me back to ashes and set me up on the fireplace mantel alongside our dogs, Cowboy, Scout, Chief and Tango. No funeral. No celebration of life either. No sense in spending Jana’s time, or anyone else’s for that matter, mourning my passing.
Besides, I suppose I have enough ego in me that I’d be terribly embarrassed if there was a poor turnout. Note to self: Try not to die on Super Bowl weekend.
So here I be. Apparently, with more life left. I’m thinking maybe I’ll work on some self-improvement projects. I’ve given thought to trying to learn another language – Spanish or French. Seems like Spanish would be the easiest. I already know enough to ask for a cup of coffee or ask for the time.
Jana grew up in Switzerland in a village halfway between Lausanne and Geneva. Out of necessity, she learned French, German and Italian. Those countries border Switzerland. Counting English, she speaks four languages. Right now, I speak two. West Coast and Southern.
I started writing a little over four years ago. It’s been something to do. Looks like I’ll probably write about something or another for the rest of my days. It’s rewarding to hear from so many people and that you’re enjoying my stories. Still, I feel like I can do more.
Like I said, I’m trying to stay on the good side of the Almighty. To be a contributor. To spread good cheer. I figure that if, on my last day, I’m involved in doing good stuff, as opposed to shooting somebody, that should make a good impression with God’s Admissions Committee. At this point, every good deed counts.
If I do make it to the clouds of heaven, there’s always a chance that I’ll be stopped at the gates and told to report to St. Peter’s office for a private, one-on-one testing session. Kind of a precursor. If so, I’m hoping it’ll be an oral exam. I’m better that way than taking written tests. Multiple-choice tests can be confusing to me.
Kinda like the DMV written test. It usually takes me more than one try to pass, even though I can drive just fine. I know about the right time to turn on my blinker but not the exact number of feet required by law.
If St. Pete will give me a chance to explain some things, I think I have a fighting chance.
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Jana Stamps’ message:
A few days ago, Bill got excited about writing some songs. He jotted down some lyrics really fast. He posted it on Facebook but deleted it after seeing me so sad about it. I reconstructed it from memory.
“Feels Like”
Feels like I’m dying. Like it’s the end of the road.
I have more life. But not for much more.
Tired of carrying the load.
All that keeps me going is your loving ways,
Your tender touch and those sweet lips.
Feels like I’m going to miss you when I’m gone.
Email Jana Stamps at bill_stamps@aol.com. Bill’s books “Miz Lena” and “Southern Folks” are available on Amazon.
Contributed Photo / Bill Stamps