The little things that at the end of it all, you realize were greater than the sum of their parts. The amount of times you laughed, or cried, danced, sang, created, inspired, and made someone smile. Those things are no less important than awards and accolades because of their intangibility.
The best kind of legacies are the ones that are unseen. You’ll never be able to measure the effect of a smile or a kind word, but I promise you, the most whispered phrase can send a shockwave around the world that lasts for centuries, or even an eternity. We’re all so focused on our own journeys through life, that we rarely stop and see the bigger picture, and how integral other people are in shaping who we become.
Be the person you want people to one day say you were. And start now. Because the timeless truth remains that time is running out for all of us, ready or not. So live and love. Truly, deeply, freely.
“You want to do the honors?” she asks, holding out the bottles toward me.
“No, I think you should. It was your idea.”
“Haven’t you worked it out yet? There is no yours and mine when it comes to us. Only ever ours.”
“Only ever ours. I love you, Baby Bear.”
“I love you too, Goldilocks. And I love you, Miss Daisy.” She tickles our daughter’s stomach as she squirms in delight in my arms.
“Shall we do it together then?”
“Yes. Do you think they’ll travel together or split apart?”
“Now who’s the one who isn’t getting it? We put pieces of our souls into those messages, Til. And my soul will always find yours. Whether it’s in a body or a bottle.”
I lower Daisy to the ground and take hold of her hand. With my free hand, I take the sealed food storage bag containing the clear glass bottle with the cork that has been sealed with wax from Matilda’s hands. It’s highly likely our messages will end up at the bottom of the ocean, but we wanted to take every precaution.
“Okay, ready? On the count of three. One… two… three…” Daisy claps in delight as we cast our bottles out into the vast unknown. Just as I said they would, they land close together and begin to float toward the horizon in the same direction.
“Bye, bwottles!” My daughter waves as she shouts, making us both laugh before we gaze back out at them in quiet contemplation. I squeeze Matilda’s hand with the one not holding Daisy’s.
Next to me, Daisy giggles as the ocean waves cover her tiny feet from her spot on the sandy shore. Safe in the reassuring comfort of my tight grip, she has the confidence to venture closer and kick at the water, laughing as it splashes before running away and hiding behind my leg as it makes its way back toward her.
In her mind, she’s playing a strange game of tag with the sea. She hasn’t quite worked out that the tide comes and goes with the same perfect rhythm that moves time forward and seconds down.
If only time could stop but the world could still turn. If only I could capture this moment forever in one of the bottles that are bobbing out to sea and into the unknown. If only I knew the unknown.
If only.
If only.
If only.
Much like what if, if only gets you nowhere. We need to stop thinking in conditionals and hypotheticals. And start thinking in realities.
Time won’t stop, and the world will always turn until it won’t. Moments can only ever partially be captured, and I’ll never know the unknown.
But just because I won’t know everything, doesn’t mean I don’t know some things.
I know that life is what you make it.
I know that living, truly, deeply, freely, takes courage.
And I know that if given the chance, I’ll search to recreate this perfect moment with my family in every lifetime yet to come.
Matilda rests her head on my shoulder as we look out at the sinking sun beyond the sea. She gives a speaking sigh that tells of her utter serenity and happiness in the moment. The same feelings slide through my veins and seep into my overflowing soul.
Our daughter experiences and enjoys the ocean with childish abandon at our feet as my arm wraps around my wife’s waist to where my unborn son lies in wait, almost ready to join a world that is often as cruel as it is kind.
He is the happiest of us all because he does not yet know of time and the power it has over our lives. Although we try to control it in a million different ways, the only things you can ever do to time are enjoy it, or waste it. That’s it.
Still, as if by psychic silent agreement, we allow ourselves to indulge in the illusion of the impossible, as I reach into my pocket and she reaches around her neck.
Breathing as one, we inhale futile, fragile hope as we suspend time the only way we know. Unfortunately, words don’t always correlate with actions, because if it did, time would stop just because we told it to.
Yet we try, as you must always try, to capture, to freeze, to absorb, to feel, to live in the moment as much as we can, for as long as we can.
Pressing and pulling, we pause the moment with our hearts instead of minds.
As time ticks on.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Thanks for reading my book! I hope you enjoyed it. I thought I’d give you a little insight into my thoughts while writing The Counting-Downers and put it into context.
The majority of my writings start with a question. I’m incredibly introspective and inquisitive. I’m fascinated by people and life, and my natural curiosity about those things leads me to ask Big Questions that often have no answer. I was that annoying kid who always asked, “But why?”
The idea for the book came out of one of the most troubling and life-changing experiences I’ve had so far.
I was at a work dinner when an elderly member of the team choked on his food at the table. Despite our best efforts to administer the basic first aid we could remember (a lesson for another day), the ambulance took a long time to arrive and he slowly died right before my eyes on the restaurant floor. It’s a sight I’ll never forget and wouldn’t wish on anyone. The only consolation was that he was in his eighties and ‘had a good run.’
But at twenty-two, that night changed everything for me. It brought the clichés and catchphrases about life being short and living each day like it was your last to reality. Like everyone else, I’d made myself a million empty promises to ‘seize the day’ whenever something bad happened, but never really followed through.
In the days, weeks, and months that followed, I just kept thinking about that night. How we all went from joking and talking in happiness to despairing in tragedy within the literal blink of an eye. None of us saw it coming. I thought about the wife he left at home that night to go out to dinner, who said goodbye not realising it would be the last time she saw him alive.
And it got me thinking. What would it be like if we could see the ‘numbers’ of how much time the people around us had left? How would that change things? The words we said? The way we behaved? The people we were? If we knew the exact second we’d have to say goodbye to someone we loved, how would we spend that time with them?
A million more questions sprung from that one question about being able to see when our time would run out. I quickly realised that knowing your own number would complicate things too much. If you knew your own, and especially if it wasn’t a long time, it would do more harm than good. I didn’t want that for my characters.
But I also didn’t want to write characters who ignored the reality that they were dying. And it is a reality for all of us. Compared to many other global cultures, we in the West often try to avoid, ignore, or pretty up death with euphemisms. As Matilda asks, how many of us say “If I die…” instead of when? Too many, is the answer.
I wanted to encourage people to think seriously about their death and the death of all those they loved. It doesn’t make you morbid or depressing, it makes you smart. Death doesn’t have to be scary. It can even be something beautiful if it encourages you to live whilst you’re alive. And that’s what I’ve tried to show in
this book. I wanted to put death within the context of life.
I hope I made you laugh in between your tears, that I made you want to travel, write that book, apologise to someone you hurt, tell someone you love them, hug your loved ones a bit closer, do things ‘just because,’ and most importantly, think about what your legacy will be and within your current means, start creating it.
I set out to write a book about grief and dying, and ended up writing one about life and living. That’s why, after much deliberation, I left you with Matilda and Tristan alive and happy in the epilogue. They wouldn’t let me write it any other way. Ultimately, we’re defined by our lives, not our deaths.
I want all my books to be ones where there is meaning on every single page. Not everything is going to speak to you. Not every event or character will resonate with you and your life experiences. But if just one word, one sentence, one chapter speaks to your soul, and makes you think or feel something, I’ve done my job.
I’m always happy to chat about life’s big questions, so if you’re a fellow thinker or dreamer who wants to ponder them with me, feel free to get in touch on any of the social networks listed on the pages that follow.
Until the next book and the next big question to be answered,
A.J.
- x -
A.J. Compton is a 23-year-old Londoner, professional dreamer, and full-time over-thinker. As a big believer in going after your dreams, she decided to practice what she preaches and finally finish one of the many incomplete manuscripts she’s started over the years.
A University of Cambridge graduate, A.J. is currently in a polygamous relationship with an embarrassing number of fictional book boyfriends.
Those two facts are not related. Honestly.
She loves people-watching and exploring her observations in her writing.
She really hates writing about herself in the third person.
Connect with A.J.
As a 90s kid and product of her generation, A.J. can be found on all good social networks under a repetitive username:
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/AuthorAJCompton
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/AuthorAJCompton
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/AuthorAJCompton
Pinterest:
www.pinterest.com/AuthorAJCompton
Spotify:
open.spotify.com/user/authorajcompton
Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/AuthorAJCompton
Website:
www.ajcompton.com
I’ve read thousands of acknowledgement pages over the years, so it is beyond surreal that I’m now writing my own. This is my first book, so bear with me if it starts to sound like an award show acceptance speech. Don’t start the music to cut me off. I’ll be briefer in the next books, I promise.
Like everything I do, and everything I am, none of it would have been possible without my mother. Thank you for being my biggest and loudest cheerleader, and for showing me what it means to be a strong woman. I had the very best example in you. Thank you. For all that you are and all that you’ve done. You and me against the world, in this lifetime and all the ones to follow.
To my grandfather, who claimed any success I ever had as being due to his genes. I know you didn’t believe in heaven, so I hope wherever you are, even if it’s just living in my memory as the voice in my head who reminds me I’m made of strong stuff, you’re proud and telling all of your friends your granddaughter wrote the best book that ever existed and couldn’t have done it without your DNA.
Robert, you once thanked me in a song and it meant the world, so I’m repaying the favour and thanking you in my book, though you may never read it. I’m so proud of us for going after our dreams, I hope we both get to live them.
Gill, for being one of the best friends a girl could ask for. Even though you didn’t know it, your belief in me helped me persevere with writing this book. Thank you for the encouragement and support you didn’t even know you were giving.
Mandy, Tasha, and Joe, for being more like siblings than cousins. I love and miss you all muchly.
Ms. B, for teaching me that history matters, and the importance of moving on so that someone else can make their memories. Teresa P for speaking to my soul, and Jennifer RL for being not just a mentor, but a friend. Thank you for not letting me give up.
To all those I’ve loved and lost. If everything happens for a reason, then maybe you all left this earth so I could know grief sufficiently enough to write this book and hopefully comfort others. I love and miss you all more than words can express.
They say that writing is a solitary process, and it is, especially if you’re an unknown indie author who hasn’t told anyone in their everyday life about their secret world. But if that’s true, then publishing is a different story. It has taken a village to put this book together, and I’m so grateful to be part of this incredible community of writers, readers, bloggers, and professionals.
The wonderful Clarise Tan at CT Cover Creations. Thank you for an absolutely stunning cover that has given my debut novel the very best chance of standing out from the very crowded crowd. Working with you was a dream and you created magic.
The lovely Julie at JT Formatting for taking care of the technical things and whipping this book into readable shape.
Atalia and Rose at FMR Book Studio, and Nazarea at InkSlinger for helping to get my name out there. Becky at Hot Tree Editing and Donna at HT Promotions for all of your help and support.
My amazing editor, Peggy Frese. Thank you so much. As the first person to ever read this book aside from me, your encouraging words, hilarious comments, and constructive advice helped me more than you will ever know. Thank you for weeding out my Britishisms. Sorry (not sorry) for the ugly cries.
Likewise for my beta readers; Andrea, Kristina, Shannon, and Barbara. Especially Shannon, who demanded more of Mr. Isaacs. I agree there’s no such thing as too much Tristan.
The incredible bloggers and readers I’ve already met as I type this. I’ve been overwhelmed by your kindness and support for a complete unknown. I am so grateful for your enthusiasm and tireless hard work, fuelled by nothing more than a love of reading. I’m terrified of forgetting someone but I hope you know who you are. Extra, über-special thanks go to Michelle, Cynthia, Anna, Tiffany, and Steph, for pimping me out to anyone who’ll listen before you’d even read the book.
And to Sapphire Knight for being a class act and reaching back to help a fellow author.
I am every book I’ve ever read, every song I’ve ever heard, and every conversation I’ve ever had. To all of the authors, musicians, actors, friends, family, and acquaintances who have inspired me or left their mark on me, for better or worse, this book could not have been written without you. There are far too many to list or remember, but know that this book is part of your legacy.
And finally to you, my dear reader, for taking a chance on an unknown author in the hopes of escaping reality, if only for a little while. I hope you found something within these pages that spoke to, and will stay with you long after you finish reading. Writing a book was on my legacy list, so if you want to pass it on, tell a friend, blog about it, or leave a review, it would be even more appreciated than you already are. No pressure, though. If this book has had its intended effect, you’ll be too busy living…
Okay, now you can cut me off. Cue music.
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