Hey, remember that time we lived?

I'm not going to die.

I mean, yes I'll eventually die just like everybody.  Eventually I'll return to the dust just like everyone does. Eventually I'll be in front of the Person Who created me and maybe if I'm lucky I'll get some answers and maybe I won't and maybe that's okay because I think everything will be okay when you're no longer a human.

Maybe it's ludicrous to say I'm not going to die because my heart could stop beating right now and I could be done.

I once thought I would know when my time is up here because I'd accomplish something and then the universe and God would be like, "Yeah, that was awesome and worth it so she can move on now."

And then this person I knew named Jamie died.

It's not like I knew him his whole life or could talk about how he had accomplished some kind of ultimate goal or anything.  I knew him for a year.

But I think what bothered me for a long time after his death was thinking he wasn't done yet.  It was hard for me to get upset when I first heard about the accident that ultimately killed him because I knew he'd pull through because he wasn't done yet.  It was an accident and the universe and God hadn't given him permission to leave yet.

And then he left.

Awhile after he left, I read this book called The Fault In Our Stars.  It's about two people who have cancer and how they live their lives and why they live their lives.

Spoilers.

One of them dies.

It's terrifying because he does some amazing things and just lives his life and then dies and he is angry before he dies because he thinks maybe he won't leave a big enough mark on the world.

Here's what I think.

FDR left an impact on the world.  So did Gandhi.  So did Hitler  So did Elvis.  So did Jack Wilson.

Jack Wilson was my granddaddy.  Most people in the world don't and won't know who he is.

But I knew who he was.  My mom knew who he was.

He lived his life just like everyone did.  I remember him sometimes, but that's not what makes his life magically worthwhile.

I want to say things now, but I'm afraid of them being cheesy or like things you say to make yourself feel better.  That's not what I want.

What I want is to feel that it doesn't matter if you have a finished or unfinished life.  It doesn't matter what you didn't mark off your bucket list before you kicked it.

I can't be upset that I feel Jamie's life was uncompleted.  I can't be upset to think that if my lungs collapsed right now I was still at university and didn't get to "really live" my life.

I'm alive.  You're alive.  Some of us are not.  But they're not in nothingness.  I don't believe that.

I'm rambling a lot, I know.  I'm a writer, we do that a lot.  I'm also under medication, and the two combined is a bad thing.

Sometimes I'm really great with taking a thought and writing it out myself and making it mine, but I don't know how successful I was this time.

Here's what I was trying to say.  I'll quote from The Fantastic Flying Books Of Mr. Morris Lessmore: "If life is enjoyable, does it have to make sense?"

I'm sorry for the incompleteness of this entry.  But I guess that's realistic of life.

Hey, remember that time we lived life?