"All I can do is be me, whoever that is"
--Dillion

About Me

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I am a lot of things, sometimes it drives me insane,and I think too much, but at the end of the day I am happy with who I am. I spend most of my time trying to understand this life, creating the person I would like to be, and learning. I always appreciate the little things, and I try to be better than, and to make better, the bad things.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Death

Death is so strange, and yet it is inevitable. It has happened to everyone that has ever walked the earth and will happen to everyone walking, or crawling it now. The best, the absolute best case scenario, we can hope for is for everyone we love to live a full life and fall asleep peacefully in old age. The worst is we send our beautiful, perfect 6-year old to school and they never come home to throw their backpack on the floor, and track in mud because they forgot to leave their shoes at the door. But no matter how or when we lose someone it leaves a big hole in our life. We look around and can't understand why the car behind us is riding our ass, or why people just keep going on like nothing has changed. So we continue on also, the best that we can.

I don't know how we cope, but we do. Although I don't understand how atheists and agnostics go on. The only thing that seems to make since about death is returning to God. Without this to hold on to I fear my tears would last forever and would not be selfish tears, but tears of fear and discontentment.

I have been so afraid of death, not of dying, but of not living fully until I do. People know it is there, that there is no escape, but still so many wasted days continue to take place. Working jobs we hate, holding grudges, not spending our free time with those that matter most. How do we forget so easily, myself included. Forgive, Quit, make phone calls, make time, move! Find what is important to you and spend your life doing it.

One more time I ask myself how should I spend my short amount of time here? How can I affect the most lives? And last, why on earth do we seem obsessed and completed engulfed with the fear of being forgotten after we go?

Love you papa, a life well lived, and a beautiful soul. R.I.P. Jackson Girtin

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