Back in junior high, I had this girl come up to me entirely out of the blue, and say to me ‘everyone says you are a worry wart is that true?’ While I have to admit it’s a bizarre thing to say to a person (especially someone who doesn’t know me), I’d also have to own up to it. I was a ‘worry wart’ and a big one at that. I worried about everything: was everything going to be okay when I grew up? Was I going to end up alone? Would I have a job I liked? You name it, I was probably worried about it. Mostly though, I worried about death.
I worried I would die young, or I’d never live to become an adult. I felt like somehow I’d get ‘robbed’ of surviving past childhood. I spent so much of my youth worrying about this that in my senior year in high school I dreamed I wouldn’t even graduate. Same ss during my senior year of college. You get the picture. But that all changed.
A long time ago I was at the cemetery putting flowers on the grave of one of my teachers when I saw a tombstone. The person who had died was 23. I had just turned 24. I realized that no matter what happens that person won’t have the time I have. Worry, fear is such a wasted and selfish emotion. I think of all the people I have known who left this world way too young, I’m not any better than they were. I can find no justice or logic as to why I am here, and they are not. It humbles me and compels me to appreciate every atom of my life. I don’t know for sure what holds it in place, but I’m so grateful it does.
Most people spend their youth being carefree and their later years in worry. It’s kind of the opposite for me I am a lot less scared and worried than I was when I was younger. Guess that’s the reward for having a few years ‘under the belt.’
We never know if life is too short or life is too long. I think life perhaps for me, might be just right.