Category: Death

I could tell you about her gorgeous fur, kind eyes, and how her butt shaked when she greeted you.

I could tell you about the rituals she loved most—from morning poops, to house sprints when the mailman (finally) arrived, to evening walks… the ones we took religiously and only ever missed one handful of times.

I could tell you about how much she hated other dogs, but how much she loved other people—and how much I could relate to that, but only flipped in reverse.

I could tell you about the time she busted through the front window and aggressively chased a little dog named Rupert and in the same breath tell you about how god damn good she was—an absolute angel who spent most of her days alone, while I worked, and patiently kept herself preoccupied, radiating with love, keeping the house warm for my return.

I could tell you about how it was just her and I… how it was we who made our house into a home… and how proud I was to have her as a dog and companion… how proud I was to introduce her and show her off to everyone I knew.

…But I know that, to those of you who never met her, she’ll only ever be just another dog.

Which is okay. I wouldn’t wish grief on any of you.

…But do me a favor and remember: the difference between Stella and you, and Stella and me, is the time we spent together—something that can’t be explained or substituted—something that’ll be just as true for you and yours, and them and me.

Yesterday, a friend told me a story of the scariest five seconds of his life.

When approaching an intersection on a two lane highway, there was a car that suddenly swerved across all lanes of traffic directly in front of him.

He jerked the steering wheel to avoid collision and ended up peeling over the grassy median and out onto the other side of the two lane highway into oncoming traffic.

Imagine the sheer horror of being behind the wheel of that swerving car, moving at highway speeds, heading towards cars that were also heading at highway speeds—right towards you.

It was a miracle that in that split few seconds of time, he was able to quickly swerve back over the median and onto the right side of the road before being hit.

I share this story to remind you to 1) always drive like your life depends on it and 2) bring back to the forefront of your mind that life is delicate. It was through no fault of his own that this person swerved in front of him. And it was damn fortunate that he was able to navigate his way back to safety.

Had he been driving less cautiously, it could have proven to be fatal—for more than just him.

I’m sure you, too, have had a scariest five seconds of your life that could’ve ended it all for you—but didn’t. Don’t let this gratitude for life leave you. Because it’s nothing short of a miracle that we’re here living, breathing, and being… isn’t it?

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P.s. I also published: 23 Greg McKeown Quotes from Essentialism and How To Live Better Via Less

I live around the corner from a large church.

Every now and again I’ll turn the corner in my car—usually lost in thought thinking about my “problems” and how I might solve them—and see a hearse parked in front with a few people dressed in suits and black dresses surrounding it.

It’s a jolting reminder that, regardless of where you are on your journey, it’s not over.

As hard as things might be, as scary as the future might appear, as painful as the past might feel… so long as there is still breath and beat in your body… let there, too, be life.

And by life I don’t mean existence… I mean life. Time spent doing all of the things the person in that hearse maybe wish they were able to do in the final few days of their life.

…It’s now or never, y’all.

Let’s journey each day like we mean it.

Today, I attended a wake for the father of a childhood friend.

I never met him, so I’m unable to comment on his life myself. But, how others summarize the life of another—someone dear to them—in the brief time allotted at a remembrance gathering will forever intrigue me.

Some of the themes that were shared of this gentlemen:

• He was an honest man. Told you how he saw it. Sometimes to a fault.
• Helped a tremendous number of people via Alcoholics Anonymous, St. Mary’s School for the Deaf, and his big & open heart.
• Was brought to life by music and nature. If you looked at his face at a live show of a band he liked, he’d look like a child who just witnessed a miracle. And if there is a heaven, he’d be listening to live music near a cool stream of water.

At the end of a life, what we’re left with is legacy—the ripples of influence that flow forever outward as a result of our life actions. And if we’re lucky, some of those ripples carry on in the lives of others and continue to create fresh ripples long after we’re gone.

Today, I hope in hearing about this stranger’s legacy, you’re moved to be more deliberate in how you create ripples. Life is short. Don’t take ripple opportunities for granted.

“He was a good man; he lived a good life.”

…Was said to me by a friend in regards to his father who reached the end of his life.

And I couldn’t help but think about how, after everything—after the millions of minutes lived and experienced in this lifetime—people will generally remember us in singular lines and snapshot memories.

Which is why before you’ve done everything you’ll ever be able to do (a sobering thought), you should consider what you would most like people to say and remember about you now… and live more often from that place so you don’t end up authoring something you later regret.

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Inner work prompt: What do you hope people will say about you after you pass? Can you boil it down to one line?

I can think back to several times in my life when I could’ve easily died.

• Times when I was really sick
• Times when I acted recklessly
• Times when I’ve been in the path of others who were acting recklessly

And I think about all the proud things I’ve done since those days.

And I think about all of the beautiful interactions I’ve had with others since those days.

And I think about how much progress I’ve made on my path towards self-actualization since those days.

And all of this reminds me that luck is undeniably a part of my life’s equation.

Because I think of the countless others… people whom I knew personally… people who were younger than I… people who were stronger than I… people who acted less recklessly than I… people who were wholesome, good-hearted people… people who were met with just one thread of bad luck…

…And it was there that it all ended for them.

And I think about how this could’ve been me 10, 20, 30 years ago.

And I think about how much I would’ve missed if it had been.

And I think about how there’s no guarantee which way luck goes for any of us moving forward.

And it is with this in mind, that I do my damn best to make sure I don’t waste a single one of these gifts that are bundled up in moments that others would’ve given literally ANYTHING for.

…And I hope, with this in mind, you might do the same, too.

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P.s. In case you missed it, you can read the best of what I posted to MoveMe Quotes last week, here.