On last conversations and the courage to have the ones that matter.
Over a seven year period, Descartes and Princess Elisabeth of Bohemia exchanged 59 letters. Thoughtful, personal, and deeply philosophical. The connection between mind and body and what we now call mental health were central themes in their correspondence until the death of Descartes in Stockholm in 1650.
I never knew of their correspondence until my Dad, an Irish philosopher and lifelong researcher of Descartes, was preparing to leave this world. When I was a child, he always read to me at bedtime. For the first time in my life, I opened one of his books and read to him at his bedside. I wrote this poem about those moments together.
-The Philosopher’s Daughter-
When conversations had begun to end
As words spoken were soft and scarce
They knew the time was close
Evening calls hurried into morning visits
And she grasped at every word he spoke
While he gasped at every breath he took
The beds had turned
And now his blue eyes, half-closed, looked up at her
While she read his written words to him
Reminiscent of his nighttime fairytales to her
Now she read aloud Descartes’ affections to the Princess
Affections
And all this
As they slowly started to let go
Father and daughter started to let go
I miss my Dad, and I miss our conversations. It’s not hard to think of the ones I wish I could have now. This experience has given me a touch of courage to have the conversations that matter while I still can.
Because our time on this earth is actually quite brief.
What conversation do you need to have with someone and have been putting it off?
A friend? A partner? A daughter? A son? A parent? A colleague? A boss?
Or perhaps… a conversation with yourself? That you keep pushing away.
