“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night ― Dylan Thomas
The email was a reminder that life is short and that we never can tell just how our string is or how much time we are given to do whatever it is we choose to do on earth.
It made his head and his heart hurt because six or was it seven years of wondering where the path would lead seemed to be coming to a head.
He didn’t yell about it being unfair or cry about misfortune because none of those things would make a difference nor would it be of benefit.
Still he couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head and thinking about how young our early thirties are and wondering how many of life’s experiences she would miss out upon.
In the very near future he would reach out to his cousins and ask if he could be of any help and offer whatever assistance he could,
And then he made another mental note to not let time slip away. There was too much to be done and not enough time to do it all but he was determined to be the best conductor of his life that he could be.
He would plan for the future and live as if there was none. He would do his best to drink deeply of all that life had to offer and he would make a point to tell those he loved that he cared about them.
He knew himself well enough to know he would always feel like there were things he still wanted to do, wouldn’t matter if he lived to be a 1000 or 10,000 years-old.
But he figured that as long as he worked on doing the things that filled his heart and made his soul sing he would feel good about life and that was enough.