If you found out you only had a year to live, but could live “normally” until your time came, what would you do?

Not to worry, I haven’t had any news to that effect! I was just standing in my deep thinking spot (the shower) a little while ago, and started to think about that. The song “Live like you were dying” was playing earlier, and it always makes me think.

Well, as much as I love that song, there is no way in HELL I’d be going sky diving. I’ve already been Rocky Mountain climbing (and also fell down a mountain in the Rockies while skiing many years ago). I have no desire to ride a bull (by any name), for any length of time. The rest? Oh yeah. But I sure don’t need to be dying to do any of that, do I.

The first thing that came to my mind as I pondered the scenario was how much I love my kids. That got me to thinking about all the things I could be doing with them, dying or not. As a self-imposed workaholic, I know full well that I’m wasting precious time with my girls. The Teen is almost grown now, and really, how much time do I have left with her living here at home? She uttered the words “apartment with my friends” the other day, and I could feel the loss as though it were already happening. There is no way to get this time back, so what in the world am I doing, squandering it sitting here when I don’t absolutely have to be??

I mentioned that I was burnt out and highly stressed the other day. Why is that? Do I really need to sit here all day (and often all evening) like I do, and put things off, forget about my schedule and play things by the seat of my pants (which are bigger because of exactly that, thankyouverymuch) every day? Do I really need to create more work for myself by taking on new projects? Do I need to spend as much time on Facebook and Google+ as I do? The answer to all of that is a resounding NO.

So the question I’ve posed to you, and to myself, is “What would you do if you only had a year to live“.

Well, what makes me happy? Nah, “things” don’t really make me happy. Ok, then, WHO makes me happy? Definitely my kids. The Hubby. Boo (cat) and Sadie (dog). My parents. A small handful of friends, who don’t need to be named here; you know who you are. My blog – most of the time. My bloggy friends, especially the ones who stick around even when I’m brain-farting and don’t have much to say.

I’d spend a little time getting my affairs in order. I’d write a lot of letters to the people who hold a special place in my heart, and finish the ones I’ve been writing to my girls since they were born. I’d travel with my kids and hubby, show them the world, and share in their adventures. I’d treat my husband the same way as I do now, because he knows how much I love to be in his arms. I’d play games and read to Wee One a lot more, and hold her tight for as long as she wanted me to, and probably a little bit longer. I’d sit with the Teen on the couch more like she’s always asking me to, and watch movies, and spend more “girl” time with her, one on one.

I’d laugh, a lot, with friends who know me and love me anyway.

I’d write and journal more, and put down all of the wonderful things I’ve seen and done, and my hopes and dreams, and all the wishes I have for my family.

Probably the question I should be asking myself is Why am I not doing all of that already? Or at least as much as I should? Sure, my kids know I love them – I tell them and show them every day of their lives. But I’ve also turned down opportunities to be with them and have fun because I was too busy. What do you suppose they’re going to remember most about me, if that is the sort of thing I keep doing?

I think we should all live like we were dying. Don’t you?