Mortality.

Mine and others.

Something I really try and avoid thinking about.

Let me first say I know and understand many of the cliches we all hear – you can’t do anything about it, life happens, everyone dies, yadda yadda. I am quite aware of all the positive and negative aspects about one’s last breath.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me to death. (pun intended)

I don’t think I thought much about dying in my 30s or 40s. Granted, my mother passed away when I was 25 and she was 54; my dad made it to a ripe old age of 85.

Somewhere along the line I started losing those I loved. My brother, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Later came the train wreck of my son. And last year my brother-in-law.

Now I find many of my close family and friends have survival problems of their own. Cancer, kidney disease. Strokes. All kinds of payments for a life well lived, you could say.

And it’s creeping me out.

I think about my own demise more often than I used to. Yes, in a perfect world I will have at least 20 more years to frolic and fancy away my life. But I’m lost when it comes to taking care of those around me. Doing my best to still be their best friend… listening, talking, encouraging.

Yet still the clocks tick on.

I don’t have an answer I can truly believe in. Heaven, reincarnation, Elysian Fields – who knows what’s on the other side. I’ve never had a magical encounter with the other side, never seen or talked to those who have passed before me. No arrows pointing to the pearly gates, no spirits letting me know there’s eternity on the other side.

So lately I’ve been doing my best to shut down all that kind of thinking. It is what it is and all that.

No matter what it is, I can do nothing about it. For my friends, for my family, for myself.

If you’ve had a peek or got an answer, let me know.

Let’s all just be strong and positive and hold each other’s hands for a while.