Last week I read "Twelve Months" by Steven Manchester. The premise of the book is a man is diagnosed with cancer and given 12 months to live. It follows his efforts to live a full life to the end while also doing things he long wanted to do, but never had.
While there was definitely a sad overtone, it was a book I enjoyed. After reading it, a thought crossed my mind- my dad was only 10 years older than I am when he died. This hit me like a ton of bricks. When you're a kid, 10 years seems like a such a long time. And ten years is a long time, especially if you are waiting for something. However, in some ways, it seems so short. My own dad has been gone for 13 years. As my mom said on the anniversary of his death last year, that doesn't seem possible. But when you look back, so much has happened since then.
I'm not planning to die in 10 years. Based on my family health history, I likely have many more years than that. But, my dad didn't plan on dying when he did either. My takeaway is to be more mindful of each day and every interaction in my life. We each only get one life to live, and none of us knows the our expiration date.
No comments:
Post a Comment