I’ve had a case of writer’s blockage lately. Not writer’s block…that I know how to address. In this case, I don’t know what to do. But I do know exactly what I need to write about: Death. If it’s not something you want to think about, let alone read about, I’ll understand if you leave now. Honestly, I won’t blame you one bit. I don’t really want to write about Death…I have to.

Sometimes an idea creeps into your brain and you can’t shake it. Upon occasion, it’s a song. We call those earwigs around here. You know what I’m talking about. You hear a song and can’t get it out of your head. If you’ve got young kids, The Song That Never Ends comes to mind. If you don’t have kids, Call Me Maybe will have to serve as your earwig. Yeah, you’re welcome…you’ll be humming one, or both, the rest of the day. Whatever you do, don’t start singing, earwigs are highly contagious!

I’m not sure what to call an idea that you can’t shake. Maybe it’s a mindwig. Or possibly a thoughtwig. Whatever it is, Death has taken up a residence in my brain of late, and I can’t shake it.

You see, while I was writing The Terror of Becoming Insanely Average, one of my college roommates died. In retrospect, I realize that his battle with Multiple Sclerosis and then Cancer, were a big part of the inspiration for that post. He was the second of my college roommates to die within a year, and as you can imagine, that’s caused me to think a lot.

When I got the news that he’d died, I didn’t know how to process the information. There are a load of  emotions to be unpacked…that’s taking a lot of energy. Not only is it taking a lot of emotional energy, I can’t shake the thoughts about death. I’ll be doing something and BOOM Death is on my mind. Well, not exactly death. To be accurate, I think it’s mortality.

It’s odd to sit here, at 52 years old, and realize that two of my closest male friends are dead. It’s partly morose, but even more it’s sobering.

Thinking about Jim’s recent death, and Dick’s passing last year, has caused me to dig deep inside to try and figure out what my life has meant. My thoughts have drifted to the poem The Dash by Linda Ellis. It’s a beautiful poem that illustrates how our lives are contained in the dash between our date of birth and our date of death. Every joy, sorrow, accomplishment, and failure has a tiny place on that dash.

Hearing that poem, just hours after learning of Jim’s death hit me hard. It made me realize that I may have less dash before me than behind me. It made me consider what I’ve accomplished with my life to this point and it caused me to focus on making a difference. The sticking point is that my everyday hamster-wheel of life seems to be sucking all my energy. My positive pronouncements that I will make a difference in the world have felt a bit hollow not long after being made. It’s not that I don’t want to make a difference. I really do. In fact, I need to.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m acutely aware of the positive impact I’ve had. I’m regularly reminded of how my coaching of so many sports teams helped shape so many young men and women. I’ve often been reminded of the encouraging words that I’ve shared when someone was low or needed a boost. Those things are true, and they did make a difference. But those are small things. And sometimes small things don’t feel like enough.

I’m old enough, and jaded enough, to realize there is a likelihood that I won’t be making a huge splash in the world. When I saw peers of my same age becoming famous, that was interesting. Then I saw people my oldest daughters age rise to fame, doing things that shaped the entire world. That was sobering. Now to watch kids who are my youngest daughters age on the international stage, impacting the fate of our planet…that’s kind of depressing. Not from the viewpoint that they’re making a difference, changing the world for the better, and accomplishing. That part is great. What’s hard to accept is that I’m beginning to stand amongst those who are considered old.

Yeah, yeah…you can tell me 52 isn’t all that old. You can trot out folks who made their greatest impact after this age. I get that. I know that the possibility is there for me to make a huge splash in the world, but possibilities aren’t enough right now. I really need to set out and work towards something that matters.

I’ve been working on this post for nearly a week. I’m enormously struggling with the wording, the nuance, to express myself.  It’s hard to think about mortality. It’s even harder when that mortality is your own. Frankly, spending the vast majority of my day with a 14 month-old ball of energy I’m reminded that I am vibrant, alive, and curious while simultaneously struggling to keep up with him.

In my mind, I know that there will come a time when I’m gone from this Earth. I’m not ready for that. In fact, I’m a long way from ready. That’s given me pause. It’s caused me to consider my prior choices, but more importantly has framed the future differently for me. Two of my greatest friends have left, and I’ve just realized how much they taught me in their passing.

Jim & Dick…thanks so much for all you shared. May your continued journey’s be filled with joy, discovery, happiness, and a continuation of the late-night conversations that we all shared.

You are missed!