There’s this nice man who works out at “my” Y. We don’t know each other well, but we exchange pleasantries. A few years ago he told me about his wife’s death. Last year he took interest in my workouts and checked on me because I was wearing a walking boot. Just a nice, unassuming guy in his early 60s.
I was reading the newspaper on Saturday when I saw his photo…attached to his obituary. I was stunned. I sent a private Facebook message to a Y friend to confirm the photo belonged to that nice man, hoping it wasn’t him. It was. He’d had a heart attack. If you’d seen him at the gym, you’d likely agree he didn’t look like someone who was at high risk of a heart attack.
The saying Live each day as if it were your last sounds so cliche. How many of us actually do that? A few years ago Tim McGraw scored a hit with Live Like You Were Dying. What made that song so popular? Perhaps fans longed for a reminder that our petty worries really don’t matter.
In all honesty, it probably won’t be too long before I once again get wrapped up in the dribble of my life. But for a while at least, I have a reminder that it would be so much better if I savored every day.