Passionate About San Diego
and the Moms Who Live Here

I Am Alive. But, Am I Living?

There’s nothing simple about attending a funeral. This past month has proven that for my family as we experienced quite a few deaths. Some passing more painfully than others. One funeral especially hit close to the heart strings.

Even though this person left a wonderful legacy behind of accomplishments and memories, our family was worse for wear. I’ve never experienced a room filled with so much heartbreak, sadness and aggression like I did this one. It was apparent that many who left that day were broken.

Every time death hits too close to home, which I (thankfully) admit hasn’t been more than a five-finger count, it reminds me that life is too short and time never promised and I’m pulled to reevaluate my core and ask myself those hard-to-answer questions.

 

From the typical:

Where do I get buried?

Do I want to be buried?

Should something happen, is everything taken care of?

 

To the harder ones:

Would I be leaving something unfinished behind?

Have I done everything, done “it all”?

Am I truly living right now?

I am alive, but…am I alive

 

And the answer, if I’m being honest, is no.

 

I’m thankful for many, many things in my life. The people I’m connected to. The physical abilities that can carry me throughout the day. The brains that allow me to have meaningful conversation with anyone. But I can tell you for certain it’s not enough. These gifts that I have are quite often taken for granted. Maybe it’s because I’ve allowed my everyday routine to mask the drive to welcome new opportunities, that I let myself get burnt out and I forget to pause and take it in. It’s time to put that habit to a halt.

Reflecting on these things makes me realize that I’ve accidentally placed myself on a shelf for keeps and walked away. That’s not living. That’s playing it safe and avoiding a life I was meant for. That life that allows me to worry less, laugh more, grow with grace and be real. Be ME.

The legacy I want to leave behind is love. I want my children’s children to gawk at me in awe for the strengths and feats I’ve accomplished. I’m not even talking about success or scaling a mountain either. (Though we should all remain open and limitless in possibilities)! I’m talking about walking in truth. Proving that hurdles are nothing more than bumps in a road. I want celebration when I’m gone; to have everyone gathered around my old and tired body ruminating about the genuineness that was experienced between us. 

I haven’t quite figured out the magic solution for this all coming to fruition though, but I can promise it’s going to start with me waking up tomorrow and reminding myself, “I am alive. Live.”

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