I wonder when it will end.
I think sometimes it’ll come suddenly, while running after my son with a Nerf gun. Both of us laughing, ducking behind furniture, peeking around corners. And finally, a bit of fat will break loose to clog an artery. Down I’ll go with a great thud and the kids will scream and my wife will hover over me as she dials 911.
Or it’ll happen slowly. Splitting wood with the axe while my daughter sings from the swings in the first wave of spring. We’ll want just one more fire because the temperature is supposed to drop as the sun falls down and as I’m daydreaming about winter leaving us for good, I’ll swing and miss the mighty oak and chop my foot in half and bleed and bleed and bleed.
Or maybe my wife and I will string together enough time and money to finally get away. Just the two of us. And as we’re taking a morning swim in the ocean, rediscovering the love that brought us together, I’ll drift into the path of a jellyfish.
I wonder all the time how it will end, but I think that’s part of this gift. This blessing. This life. Knowing that it’s out there moving toward me without fail or fear or feeling makes me more aware. More in tune and thankful. Happy and brave.
Death isn’t meant to make us afraid. It’s meant to give life its meaning.