The older I get the more sentimental I become. Especially about the time I get with family.
You never really know how much time you have left. I don’t say that to be morbid. But to remind myself of the importance of prioritizing what matters.
There’s a really jarring post about this from a blog I enjoy, The Tail End from Wait But Why. Illustrating your life in dots based on the average human lifespan, it forecasts “how many times left” the average person might have based on where they are in their journey.
I think a lot of us grow up fearing our own mortality, and so naturally, we avoid thinking about it at all costs. But I’m not afraid to die. What scares me much more is getting to the end and realizing I took things for granted.
This is, in part, I think, why I get more sentimental with time. The people and things in our life that make us who we are – they matter. They’re worthy of our affection, admiration, and gratitude.
It doesn’t all have to be captured and shared on social media, either. We can savor experiences without sharing them with the world.
It makes those moments more intimate. If for no other reason than scarcity. When there are no pictures or videos or archives to reflect on later, only the catalogue of our own memories.
We never know when we’re going to do our last something. So it warrants being present. We’ve got to show up for our own lives.
I don’t know when will be the last time I’ll read Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. Or when I’ll uncork my last bottle of wine shared with family and friends. Just like I don’t know the last time I’ll take a walk holding hands with my wife.
But I want to be there for every one of the times I do get. I want to savor all of those precious moments, big and small alike – and as Thoreau once said, “to suck out all the marrow of life.”