Musings on Mortality.

Well, today is Mr. Brian’s funeral. Although he was a friend of my parents, he was only 15 years older than I am. If I knew today that I had 15 years left, what would I change? Ian would be 30, BB would be 22, and Molly would be 16. Wow – a chill just went down my spine – 15 years would not be enough time. I know I don’t get to pick when I’m going to die, but 53 is way too young.

I’d like to say I’d quit work and spend more time with my family, but that’s not really realistic - we’d all still need to eat and stuff. Would I spend less time cleaning? I’d like to say yes but I don’t see that happening either. I’d be sitting there in my messy house twitching uncontrollably and in a foul mood. I think what I would do is watch less TV and spend more time doing stuff with the kids. I’ve carried around in the back of my head an idea for a weekly game night/no TV night. Maybe it’s time to start. Maybe more hugs should be passed around. (and maybe more vacations?!)

And I’d tell my family “I love you” more often. Because I do. I don’t always show it but it is true. And I would stop stressing over piddly little shit. Because in the end it won’t matter whether or not I was the favorite (parent, child, sister, friend, whatever), because I will know we are all “the favorite” in our own way. And I know that through all the bitching we love and are loved by each other.