Walking the dog tonight, I was thinking about my upcoming surgery on Monday. I realized that should I not survive the surgery, I would be at peace with where I am.
The surgery last year was rough, especially the calcium withdrawals. It would be somewhat narratively satisfying if the surgery to fix what they found the year prior, was my end. Kicking the bucket on my 44th year, especially given the jokes about the 44 bucket in the back yard.
I think I’ve done some good work in the last year, mending some relationships, working on myself, etc. Should this turn out to have been my final year, it would not have been a bad one to have ended on. There is plenty of unfinished writing, a few unfinished lego sets, but no real outstanding unfinished business to tether me to this plane.
In theory, folks would gather in Squamish, to do that whole celebration of life thing. I don’t know how many would actually make the trek, nor what they’d get out of it.
In theory, there might be a small ceremony here, but beyond family, I’m not sure there would be call for it.
Beyond that, a passing mention on a few discords, folks reading this perhaps, and then moving on.
In a previous post, I’d mentioned a quote attributed to Herodotus, “Call no man happy until he is dead.” If I were to die in the near future, it would be fair to have called me happy.
If you are reading this, I appreciate it. There’s a good chance that I’d have said it was good knowing you, had the question come up.
Thanks friends, I love you all, though I probably should have said that more.
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