It’s not dying that keeps me up at night. It’s all the things that I’ll miss when I’m gone. The conversations with loved ones. The moments with my children. The baseball games, the soccer matches. The bedtime routines and giggles. I’ll miss seeing my kids grow up. I’ll miss my wife. Hearing about her day. Those quiet moments where we watch our kids playing and don’t have to say anything at all but we both know what a special moment this is.
No, I am not dying. No more than anyone else, at least. I’m just having a moment of reflection. I’m old enough that if I were to die, the reaction that “he was so young” is becoming less and less likely.
One day I will wake up and it will be the last day I do. I most likely won’t know that. I won’t know that each moment is my last. My last glance at the sky. My last smile. My last words to a loved one. One day my time will run out. It’s what will I do with the time I have left? That’s what I’m thinking about today.
