Nobody I know of loves to talk about the subject of death and dying, and most don’t even want to think about it. But it happens all around us, especially in our alleged golden years, and all we can do is keep trying to dodge it, so stay alert.
My lifelong friend Bruce has this analogy — life is like being issued four $20 bills. This refers to living an average of 80 years, if you’re so blessed, and each bill represents two decades.
Looking at my own life, I’ve already spent three and a half, so that means I’ve rounded third base and am heading for home plate. Now I wish I was still on first base.
When you’re 18, anybody over the age of 30 is pretty old. When you’re 70, you know what your parent meant when they called somebody a young whippersnapper. Your spring chicken days are over and now you’re more like a sprung chicken. And it feels like it, too.
It’s like we’re all tooling down the great Highway of Life together, enjoying each other’s company and the scenery, and suddenly somebody’s exit shows up and they peel off and are gone. We’ve all missed some exits in our life while driving for real, but this is the ultimate one, and nobody misses that off ramp.