I was talking to my co-worker yesterday and she told me that she has three months to go until her wedding. I got to thinking that...in three months...I will be very close to having my baby. She mentioned all she still has to do to prepare for her wedding...in three months...and I chuckled, thinking of how unprepared I am for a baby and all I will have to do, too.
But on my way home I thought about my dad's good friend, Tom. Tom called my dad last week with the news that he just found out that he has a brain tumor and was just told by the doctors that he will die...in three months. Three months to live, even though he's a healthy guy in his early fifties. Now he has to suddenly deal with his own mortality.
So, of course, that made me think of whether I would like to know if I was going to die at a specific time. I always thought I'd like to know, that way I could really "live it up" and tie up loose ends, but past health experiences involving the important men in my life—my dad, my husband, my brother—have made me reconsider.
And now hearing that my dad's childhood friend is dying...in three months...has convinced me. What must his day be like? What must his wife and son think every single day? Are they counting down? My heart aches for them.
So while I prepare for a life, his life will be ending...in three months.