How do we make sense of things that just don’t make sense?
A dear friend of almost eight years, passed away last week. He died in his sleep. He was 49. He had two little girls.
I have not felt like myself since I heard the news. I’ve been looking for the magic, searching for the lessons, and pondering this whole “life” thing. I can’t seem to think of anything else, and quite frankly don’t want to right now.
Anyone who has dealt with loss at some point knows, it really puts things into perspective. For me, even though I’ve been through it before—it shines a bright light on a few things.
First, all that stuff that on a day-to-day basis seems to matter so much—doesn’t. That annoying thing your partner did, that big project that’s due at work, that traffic you got stuck in—in the whole grand scheme of life does not matter. Now, I know it’s all relative, and when we are dealing with circumstances we label as stressful, or upsetting in some way, it can feel difficult. But like always, it doesn’t have to be—and it doesn’t have to take someone dying for that shift to be made. We can realize every day there are more important things to focus on—which brings me to my next point.
Experiencing each day as if it were our last, may seem unrealistic for a lot of folks, but this idea doesn’t mean we have to drop everything this minute and go skydiving or travel the world. It simply means showing up and experiencing life as the best version of ourselves. If you knew today was your last day, how would you like to feel? We don’t need to change our lives; we just need to change how we live our lives—Every. Moment. Matters.
Lastly, treasure those you love because you never know when you may never speak to or see them again. I didn’t realize how much of an impact my friend John had on my life until I found out he was gone. It would have been amazing to value him that much while he was here. It makes me think about all of the amazing people in my life, and how I can appreciate them more today.
John was the type of guy whose smile was contagious. He made everyone who encountered him feel special. His energy lit up a room, and he was always the life of the party. John was the true definition of a person who lived his life to the fullest while he was here—and he will be missed terribly by many.
None of us know when our next breath will be our last. This doesn’t have to be a morbid thought, but it can be a wonderful wake up call to start living our lives more fully—to love more, to feel more enthusiasm, to appreciate all that we have.
That’s it—that’s all I got for ya today…
P.S.-Johnny left behind two young daughters, ages 6 and 7. A GoFundMe account has been setup by his family for their education. If you feel compelled to contribute, you can do so here.
