ately, I’m starting to think of life as a game of Russian Roulette with everyone waiting to see whose number comes up next. Almost every day, I hear of someone else I know having a terminal illness and I can’t help but wonder when the hand of fate will tap me – or someone I love.
One shouldn’t dwell on such things, I know, but how can you not think about death when it’s happening all around you so often?
I’m not alone. I have a friend whose first act every morning is looking at the obituary. She says she checks the ages of the deceased to see how many are her age or younger and how many are older.
“Why does it matter?” I asked.
“It doesn’t,” she said, “but it makes me feel a little better if there are more older ones than there are the same age or younger. Some days I win. Others, I lose. It’s just a game I play.”
“I don’t even look at the obituary unless I’ve already heard about a friend or acquaintance dying,” I told her. “Why look for something depressing?”
Life is short, to be sure! We go from infanthood to childhood, the teen-age years, young adulthood, adulthood and middle-age. And then one day, almost without noticing, we slip into the autumn of our lives. It’s about now we begin to question whether we ran a good race – enjoyed life to the fullest. It’s when we realize how little time we have left and either feel regrets or take a bow for a life well-lived.
And we wait for the inevitable winter to set in.
Photo - The Sands of Time 6 by Forestina-Fotos