A Certain Number of Breaths

Last month, we lost one of our own. A pal since puberty surrendered his spirit after a five year battle with cancer. His death fired off a warning flare amongst my childhood chums. Shifting the third quarter of our circle of life into high gear.

We’re no strangers to grief. Lori’s husband Scott passed away three years ago (next week), and Dad in 2015. Sadly, we’ve reached an age where our parents are dropping like ten pins. But when peers start to depart, it’s a wakeup call.

My mate believes we are all born with a certain number of breaths. That lifespan is predetermined by your DNA. Faced with an inevitable expiry date, we’ve got some shit to do. A reminder to grab life by the balls, and bang out deeds undone.

Mortality To-Do List

✿ Keep your guard down and your tits up.

✿ Relax like your life depends on it.

✿ Hug more, rage less.

✿ Ask for help.

✿ Up yours with a colonoscopy hose. No seriously, get that shit checked out.

✿ Accept a compliment without poo-pooing it.

✿ Forgive the piece of your past that was young and stupid.

✿ New beginnings start every second, every hour, every day.

✿ Support the disenfranchised, work for the common good.

✿ Live life as you want to be eulogized.

✿ Successfully stop one bad habit.

✿ Tell your people you love them.

✿ Recognize this too shall pass.

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  1. Ken MacLean

    This hit the spot. Good way to start the day.

    • Sangria Sisters

      Kyla’s daughter worked with a little boy this summer who told her “We’re all born with a certain amount of farts and once you’ve had your last fart, you die!” A small twist on the philosophy!

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