When life happens...

My Grandfather is dying. As I write this I sit in the living room at my grandparents' house, watching my grandpa take what may very well be his last, labored breaths. This whole dying thing is nothing new to me. I wish it wasn't the case, but I've lost a score of people throughout my life. And it never gets easier. In the past two days since, as my mom would say, "things have taken a turn for the worst", I have really been thinking a lot about the life my grandpa has lead, and what death means for us.

I think when we're younger, death is an abstract concept. Someone is here one day, then mysteriously the next they're gone. We're sad, but for reasons that we don't fully understand. It's like what is more upsetting is that we don't have a grasp on what happened, rather than the actual event. Does that make sense? I think this is why people are always seeking therapy for those traumatic events in their childhood. Because our little brains don't know how to process the pain.

Now, we're older. I'm older. And I understand. I have seen the toll that my grandfather's failing health has taken on my mom, on my uncle, on my grandmother. Death, instead of being a scary unknown will be a glorious release for my grandpa. I don't want him to go, but I don't want him to be here in pain, either. And there are so many more emotions that come with this logic. I go from sweet nostalgia to crying to laughing to silence, like I'm strapped in on some insane roller coaster. This is what death does to us. If we're smart, it makes us remember fondly all of the great times we had, all of the memories. As I sit here, looking at my sweet grandfather's face, I know that this is not how I will remember him. I'll remember him as the broad-chested strong man who held both my cousin and I, one in each arm. I'll remember him as my snowmobile instructor (and the digger-outer when I inevitably went somewhere he told me not to, and got stuck). I'm glad that I'm older. I'm glad that I have these memories - the ones that escape me from my loved ones that passed away in my childhood.

My grandfather will die. We will all die - but I think the lesson is to enjoy - as my uncle said, do something great everyday. My grandpa did a lot of great and amazing things with his life, and I can only hope to do half of the things that he did.

No time like the present

I think the funny irony of life is that one day, you feel like you'll never arrive where you want to go. The days, the hours, even those pesky minutes tick by ever so slowly, until you think you'll go mad from the waiting. Then, all at once, you wake up, and you're 25. And the world is rushing by at a frenetic pace. Your friends and acquaintances live to work, and one by one, we settle down into the predictable life.

Not that it's a bad life. There are things to be said for predictability. Predictability brings its friends stability and consistency - things that we are taught to value from infancy. But, dare I say, that predictability is a little bit...boring.

Don't mistake this post for a rant on the family life, marriage, or any such things. Some of the most adventurous people I know are parents, and married people, too. What has occurred to me lately, though, is that life is short. Too short, in fact. Life, and death, it all happens in the blink of an eye. Too many days in my life I've lived with regret, or been paralyzed by fear or indecision. Too many people I know live to work, to achieve that next promotion, to make that next sale. And, let me tell you, time is going by. Not slowly, not ebbing and flowing any longer. Time is racing by, faster, and faster, as the years go on.

What's your adventure? What do you daydream about while you're at your day job? What is it that makes you come alive? Because if you're not doing it from 9-5 there are precious few hours left in the day, in your life, to experience the fullness of life. God didn't make us to lead a boring life. God designed us for a grand adventure. Terrifying, but satisfying at once. So. Live your life. There's no time like the present.