I started this blog not long after I found out I had lumps in my arms. While they turned out to be harmless lipomas (small masses of fat), I did have to undergo an operation to remove a growth from around my groin which turned out to be a swollen lymph node (still no solid idea as to the cause).

I can still recall my first inkling of mortality as an 8 year old when I realised that:
1) people died,
2) I'm a person,
Oh My God, 3) I'm going to die.

I was lying in bed and I sat upright with a big gasp for breath. It was only my first lesson, though.

When my father died in '92, I, at the age of 17, having seen how miserable a person could make themself and those around them and then suddenly die, I vowed to simply enjoy my life and let the people around me enjoy theirs. It became a futile effort to try and determine the whys and wherefores of living. There was no point in delaying action or living for some distant point in the future. The future is all too uncertain and cares little for your understanding of it.

It lead me to the conclusion/philosophy that waiting for ideal conditions before doing things I wanted is simply a lack of courage to get up and do something. My new flaw is that I frequently rush into things without much competence or forethought but I find that, more often than not, I am satisfied with the results and I would rather try and fail than having never tried. Life and its transitory nature have sat quite well with me for a number of years.

I have been ready to die for a long time but with the birth of my son, I'm sad that I won't see the entirety of his story. I suppose if he dies before me, I will, but I hope that is not the case. I can't really think of too many things worse than a parent having to bury their child. It's a new twist to my mortality that I'll have to learn to accept.

Ugh, this is difficult.