It’s a day by day thing that just sort of happens kind of quietly in the back ground of all the activity and stuff going on, the things you do, try to do, want to do, dream about, think about, the things that come at you, being done to you, the give and take, sometimes struggle. Behind it all quietly ticking is the clock, call it your heartbeat, you’re only going to get but so many, there’s going to be a last one.
There’s going to be a lot of last things someday, a last day, a last meal, a last breath, a last sight, sound, touch, thought, taste, smell, sensation, dream, sleep. Some people may die in pieces and have their lasts on days other than their last but the principle is inexorable. It doesn’t help to dwell on it like I seem to be doing right now, spending these few minutes writing about it, minutes I will never get back, that’s right at some point I will find myself, knowing or unbeknownst, in my last minute.
I like to write here at Medium, I was one of the early joiners, there are many very fine writers, journalists, bloggers here now. Some no doubt already in a successful writing career, some soon to find they have earned their way into one. It occurs to me just now that someday I will write my last entry into the cyber universe, who knows, this may be it right here, that’s just one reason why it’s important, at least to me, to stop by and electronically scribble what I got at the moment, what I’m dreaming up, what’s just streaming by like so many clouds against a blank blue yet watching sky.
My last song, TV show, ball game, I remember visiting my father at the hospital on the very night he had all his last stuff, the game was on, I’m not sure how much he was seeing though, at least in the usual way, he was trying to talk to me, he was unintelligible, mumbling, incoherent, at least to others, no doubt it was all plain, simple and clear to him, I like to think it was, I got the feeling from it all though, it was good, I like to think my father and I parted on good terms and worked through a few things that may have been hanging us up. I think it was good because we shared our last handshake and embrace and then I left him there with the game on. No, I knew he wasn’t doing very well, but I did not know he was soon to be gone.
My last day is coming, whether it’s gonna be by surprise or right on time so to speak. That’s why it’s important to carry on, dream, enjoy, it’s very finite. I don’t know what’s beyond, but if there is a beyond I don’t want to wake up there with what are now, while alive, easily correctible regrets. That’s probably a wrong way to look at regrets since I don’t have regrets so much as a few things I just wish were a bit better, I know, quibbling, but the idea is, once it’s done once you’re gone, it, your life, is carved in stone, the immutable past. Too late, truly unfixable then, but maybe you can fix some stuff now, do that thing you always wanted to do, succeed at something even, kiss that girl.
I’m not going to edit this much, I like to come back in a few and see what I was thinking, and how I was thinking it. I like to see how the stream flowed that day, unless, this was to be my last day, which if so, someone else will have to see it and reflect, maybe find a menaing in it I missed. You never step into the same river twice, so, I suppose it’s best to write it down from time to time, the river that is.