When my mother died in March of 2024, she left behind a stack of crossword puzzle books. She liked doing them in the evenings while watching TV, if she didn’t have her hands busy with a crochet project.
My older sister (who lived with her) offered me the stack and as I also enjoy a good crossword from time to time, I took them. I’ve been slowly working my way through them. (Hopefully this is not TMI but I keep them in the bathroom and as I work from home I’m able to get through about one a day.) I’m currently working my way through a big thick book of 700 puzzles and I’m more than halfway through.
A couple of weeks ago I turned the page and found one that was half done.
So.
The book stayed paused on this one for a long time.
I didn’t quite know what to do with it, honestly. I felt a little sad, but mostly I had a sudden sense of how much I might myself leave half-done and incomplete in this world.
I feel like I have so much work left to do. And by that, I don’t mean actual work, the kind that pays money. I mean the work of learning who I am. The work of learning about other cultures, other people’s lives on this planet we share. The work of finding joy in a million new experiences, skills, and stories.
The work of living, that is to say.
I am not afraid of death; I always imagine myself quietly thinking to myself, my work here is done, and finding relief in letting go of any duties and obligations for good.
But I am afraid of leaving anything on the floor that could have been tasted, touched, smelt, seen, heard. I am afraid of not sucking every last bit of glory from this amazing place while I can.
In the end, I decided to finish the puzzle. It’s half her work, half mine. When I am gone, perhaps someone (my kids, I hope) will pick up the work of living that I leave behind. Will take my example and find their own joy.
I have tucked the finished puzzle away now for safekeeping – a little piece of my mom. One last lesson in the precious nature of life.
I’ll keep working away at living, Mom; don’t you worry now, your work is done.
TurtleHead 
I think that, no matter what we do or how we show up, we always leave this world with much undone, unsaid, unlearned. As you say, the promise lies in those we leave behind in the living. They pick up what they can and continue on in their own way. There is much poignancy in your completing your mom’s crossword and how the two of you are mingling in words, play, ideas even after she’s passed. A lovely reflection.
Ah, Lynn! Once again you give us a thoughtful and beautifully written post! (the last line brought tears) I love how you demonstrate the great value writers provide: taking something âsmallâ like an incomplete crossword and showing readers what life lessons can be taken from that. I came away from this post with the reminder to not leave anything on the floor, joy in particular.
Bravo and thank you!
L A