There’s a young kid on a boat sailing over from Russia.
That kid ends up being my grandfather.
My dad’s dad.
And I sometimes imagine him knowing, right there on that voyage, that his son would inevitably die, awfully, from brain cancer.
And from there I think about what the dead would tell us. If they could talk. Knowing what they know now.
They’d probably say something like, “Lighten the fuck up.”
Continuing with, “Try not to get tangled in situations which make your heart heavy. And don’t try to keep up with the Joneses. They have their own problems you’re just not aware of. And, with that, they’re assholes anyway. Listen up living people, your only responsibility while alive, is to truly live. Because it all ends so fast. Please, for us, truly live. Thank you.”
Easier than it sounds?
Or maybe we need a good old fashioned global intervention of reprioritizing.
Maybe this blog post was written just for you.