|My Dad and Me|
Another part of my discontent is definitely a fear-based result of having a parent die in my youth. My dad's sudden death all those years ago made me acutely aware of how quickly things can change. He was here one minute, making fun of my boyfriend and nagging me about my grades, then he was gone. I don't like that I'm getting close to 49 (the age he died.) Getting older isn't bothering me as much as just seeing age 49, like it's some sort of scary finish line. Morbid, I know. But no one ever said fear was rational.
As I reflect on these thoughts, I notice two things: they're both fear-based. And they both mean one thing: I must choose to cherish this life I've been lucky enough to have. Regardless of where we are in the ocean of our lives, it's our life, meant to be lived to the fullest with the same joy as that young couple with the hands clasped together had all those years ago. No matter if the memories are small ones (coffee on winter mornings, cuddles in front of the fire, summer evenings by the pool) or momentous milestones (#TwentyinTahiti - we decided to hashtag our trip, because we're dorks) each one should be cherished and lived to its fullest.
To honor my dad and his memory, this is what I'll work on: be present. Cherish the small times, because they often end up being the big times. Be grateful for each day and leave it a bit better than I found it.