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“Life is short” is said too casually. We should really say: “You’re going to die.”
Every day for the past four years I’ve reminded myself of this fact. How everything eventually goes to zero. People hate thinking of death, but why would I hate thinking of the place my dad has gone?
My fear of death has been replaced with the fear of not truly living. Getting to the end and realizing something to the effect of “Wow, I didn’t do it.”
Here’s what 75 years of life looks like visually with each box representing a week of time:
The best part about this visual is it helps you realize just how short life is.
The worst part about this visual is that I lied.
This visual depicts ~52 years of life, yet just like that you assumed you had another 23 years to live.
Perhaps the most criminal thing we do as humans is assume we have time. We make plans for the distant future, but who says you’ll make it there? We squirrel money away in 401k accounts to prepare for a decade we might never live to see.
Today is all that exists. It’s a gift; that’s why it’s called the present. Because of this, a more accurate way to depict life visually might be something like this:
While tomorrow is never guaranteed, living solely for today isn’t a good idea either. Living without any regard for the future is a great way to throw yours away if you’re lucky enough to get there. I guess that’s why we’re forced to find a balance.
What’s most important is learning to enjoy the present. Savoring every moment of the black box you’re lucky enough to be in. I constantly think about how my dad would give anything to be in it.
We invent millions of worries yet everything that matters in life can be counted on a single hand: Your family, your friends, and how you choose to spend your time. Everything else is simply noise.
We cling to life so fervently, yet living is what’s actually hard. It’s difficult to find and pursue what you find meaningful. To discover the goal that you want to spend your precious time chasing. It’s so difficult that some people never find it. I say “find” intentionally since it’s something you must seek; not something that you will stumble upon.
Every day I think about my dad. Some days I hardly think about anything else.
This time of year especially.
I look at his pictures.
I listen to his voicemails.
I think about the advice he might give me.
And every time I come to the same simple conclusion: How lucky am I to be here today. To feel and experience all the things good and bad.
I love you dad.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
-Kevin Jr.
Since my dad’s passing, a letter that Richard Feynman wrote to his wife 16 months after she passed away is one of my favorite things to read; especifically, the letter’s last line.
October 17, 1946
D’Arline,
I adore you, sweetheart.
I know how much you like to hear that — but I don’t only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.
It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.
But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.
I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can’t I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.
When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.
I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don’t want to be in my way. I’ll bet you are surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can’t help it, darling, nor can I — I don’t understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don’t want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.
My darling wife, I do adore you.
I love my wife. My wife is dead.
Rich
P.S. Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don’t know your new address.