Today I start the magic year, the age my dad was when he died.
Up until now, I’ve been seeing this age nearing in the future, as a goal post and a reminder of the quickness of life, the instability, the wonder. What will it be like when I’ve lived longer than my dad? What will I feel like? What if this were my last year? And this was all I got to experience? Is it enough? What did he feel like?
I don’t want you to think I’m stuck in the past. I’m not. I live in the present moment quite well. But my dad dying suddenly when I was seven, it changed things up. I lost my innocence, but with that, gained early insight into what’s really important and what’s not in life. There’s a lot that doesn’t seem too important after that.