I’ve been thinking a lot about death. Happy Monday, right? We have all these years to work, make choices, eat good food, make mistakes and amends, have successes, build a family, create a legacy—then it’s over. Literally, in an instant it’s over.
Everything comes to pass. A mere memory in the minds of those we knew. If we’re lucky, we’re mourned and talked about for years to come, but eventually the pain of our absence fades. It’s just the way of life.
What does that mean for me right now as I’m writing these words?
I’m sitting on the dock of my in-law’s lake house, watching the sun go down and waiting to eat a delicious dinner with people I love. This is the epitome of what weekends were meant for.
And it still won’t last forever...
This dock will rot. These people and sweet dogs will pass. The house will decay. Eventually it will all be forgotten. Yet we still fight to live and to experience and to hold on to every second we’ve been given.
It just really gets me sometimes.
I am so happy to be alive and aware and able to appreciate “this,” even though it won’t last, even though it’s a tiny blip in the grand scheme of human history, even among all the pain and suffering, it’s an incredible gift.
Books I recommend: