It has almost been one year since I started writing this blog. What a peculiar year it has been. For the first seven months I wrote without intermission. Those were good months. Still, since Willi became ill and then died in June, things just haven’t at all been the same.
The same as what?
My Mom is still bursting into tears about Willi. Stephen is still bursting into tears about Willi. Yvette is still counting the weeks since his death… and my reaction is the most surreal of all; I count the weeks until mine.
The long and the short of it is that, in a 100 year life, there are 5,200 weeks… (Who do we think we are, Bob Hope?) Anyway, at 42-and-a-bit, I have used up almost half of 100, give or take a few fractions. But, if I live to the ripe old age of 70, like my father, then it’s substantially less than half. If I die “young”—and lets face it, dying in your 40’s or becoming President of the United States of America are the only two circumstances in which a person in their 40’s will ever be considered to be “young” again—then there is precious little time remaining. “Oh… he dropped dead of a heart attack at 42, and then became President. Wow… young!”
Practically the only thing I’m too young for now is to drop dead of a coronary… almost everything else is fair game. I have now entered the realm of “young for your age” which has the simultaneous benefit of being both flattering and insulting… just depending.
But life begins at 40. Ya, ya, ya. I think more accurately, a life in which you can become acutely aware of your own mortality can begin in earnest… but doesn’t have to. (Never underestimate the power of denial.) Face facts: You will die…sooner or later. Are you ready? Did you live your dreams? Did you stay inside your comfort zone until it became a prison? You have X amount of weeks left, if you are lucky, what are you waiting for? What are your dreams for the future and what are you doing about them? Time is marching on and waits for no one.
Depressed? Relax. Don’t stress! Stress is bad for you! But did you know that depressed people are much more accurate in their assessments of reality than people who are happy? Happy people tend to see things on the bright side by about 35% too much. Depressed people tend to die 6 years sooner than happy people. Hmmm.
But anyway, life begins at 40? Actually the only thing that happens at 40 is that you wake up to how high the stakes have become, and so you may find yourself habitually placing 50% of your chips on black and the other 50% on red, hoping all the while that big roulette wheel of life doesn’t stop on those big ugly green zeros. This is called stupidity.
At 40 you begin to realize that life is a game in which the big casino of eternity will win even if you play it safe… especially if you play it safe. I say throw some caution to the wind. I am not a big fan of the stupid risk, but I am wonderfully enthralled by the calculated variety. Let’s face it, risk makes life interesting, it spices things up.
So what do you have to lose, your life? Guess what, that’s a done deal. Now what? Even if you were born today, and you lived to the ripe old age of Bob Hope, it’s only 5,200 weeks, and who the hell wants to live to be one hundred years old anyway? Please no!
And so a new day begins…and counting.
