I spent years, almost a decade researching my family's genealogy. I was almost back to Jesus when reality, cold and stark confronted me. The one fact that was conclusive beyond all reasonable doubt? They were all gone and I wasn't. I packed them all away one spring morning.
I leafed through the papers one last time, pages upon pages of born here's - died here's. Their dashes flashed by like a flip book. There it was...That moment...The moment that I realized that I will never do all that I want to do here on earth. There are places that I won't see, faces that I won't touch, people that I won't love, books that I wont' read, wine bottles that I won't open and chocolate that I won't eat.
I am sure each individual reacts to ~That Moment~ it in their own way. I remember going into the kitchen and making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich after mine. I personally dislike the ~Bucket List~ craze. The idea of limiting my dreams and goals to the contents of a tin pail is just plain mortality frugality.
That moment forces us to face facts. Like, there are some things that I have always wanted to do that I won't. i.e. Eating lunch sitting on the paw of the Sphinx after riding a camel across the dessert.
There are some things that I want to do that I may get to do i.e. Play connect the dots on a Dalmatian, Zip Line, Hot Air Balloon…
And a lot of things that I don't want to do that I will. i.e. Put on another pair of panty hose.
Tearfully I asked Don after another mortality moment (A close brush with death when a large green tree frog jumped from a door onto my bare chest) "Why do you think that so much weird stuff happens to me?" He replied "Because you live."
If I live a lot, I am going to get hurt a lot, but... I will increase my chances of injury AND pleasure both. So, I don't really have a short list, my list is short. Learn to fly, fly away.
Every breath is a mortality moment.