Valley of the Shadow of Death

George Carlin has died.  Less than 8 hours ago as I write this.  I know he was 71, which is somewhere between young and old, but he somehow seemed timeless.  Who among us could picture him dying?

It's sobering, and at 1AM in a quiet house it would be easy to succumb to the black despair of The Approaching End.  I've done it a few times, I know.  As far back as when I was just 8 or 10 years old, I remember lying in bed terrified of death.  Probably it was the result of losing my mom so unexpectedly and tragically, but who knows.

Rather than despair, maybe it's best to use the Cold Hand of Death as motivation.  I think this is true whether one is a religious person or not.  Whether you believe in an afterlife or not, it's good to remind yourself from time to time that this is your chance to do something marvelous with life.  Laugh, cry, live, love, make a difference.

I remember lying in bed as a child, thinking about the year 2000, which at that time was in the distant future.  I remember thinking about how I would turn 33 years old in 2000, one foot in the grave (33 is pretty old when you're 10).  Well, 33 has come and gone long ago, and now I'm 41.  Now this is the part where I could whine that I haven't accomplished anything, haven't done anything memorable.  Ah, but that would be a lie.  I've done a hundred or more things that are very important to my soul, and to other souls around me.  I've shared 10 years with a son who is an amazing person, partly because of me.  I've spent 17 years with a woman who... I don't even know how to finish that sentence.  I hope to be lucky enough to spend 60 more years with her.  I have the kind of bond with my Dad that few children are ever lucky enough to experience.

I've loved a best friend who ended up as my polar opposite in almost every way after our paths diverged.  I've loved another best friend who took his own life; that was one of the most traumatic events of my life, but I was privileged to know Thomas for 10 years before that.  I've made music with my sax and my voice, and I've hit all the notes in Bridge Over Troubled Water.  I've heard the thud of tennis balls against the grass courts of Wimbledon.  I've had my picture taken with two senators (including one who was later Vice-President of the US) and one porn star, and I've had the Queen of England walk within five feet of me.  

I can close my eyes and smell fresh-cut grass or burning leaves.  I have cried at sad movies, and at happy movies, and at action flicks.  I'm sensitive, and I'd like to stay that way.

No, my 41 years have been far from a waste.  Still, dear Cold Hand of Death, I'm not nearly done.  I have so much left to do, so much left to feel.  "Your life is now", according to John Mellencamp, and I believe him.  I can and do spend time thinking about the past, planning for the future, and fearing the inevitable, but none of those are my life.  My life is now.  Now is the only moment available to me, and I am making Now extraordinary.  I encourage you to do the same.