…I was in Georgia. I was lounging around in bed (pretending to be asleep, I believe), enjoying my vacation, when it was announced that my grandfather had died. I didn’t know him well. I’d only met him a few times and spoken with him on the phone. He lived in Lebanon, along with the rest of my dad’s family.
I just remember feeling stunned. Death is a real thing. It’s not the end, but it’s real. Our bodies die. And I’d like to say I’m not afraid to die and I think I’m mostly not, but it’s something people can’t explain or tell you about, really. It’s a venture into the unknown and that scares many people. I just want to live so that when people look at me, they see hope, you know?
I don’t need apologies or anything. This post isn’t to get you to feel sorry for me or anything like that.
This post is to remind you that you never know when the end is coming. The first time I remember being in Lebanon was when I was 12. We were laughing and dancing in our party clothes because it was my aunt’s wedding. The second time I remember going was when I was 15. We cried and wore black.
Life is full of ups and downs, just like the heart monitor in hospitals. If it’s just a flat, steady line, you’re dead. And there aren’t any opportunities in death. I encourage you to life life to the full.
Do the right thing, even if it’s the hardest thing to do.
Think before you speak and act.
If you make a mistake, learn from it. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.
Know that it’s okay to make mistakes.
Apologize when you do something wrong.
Don’t be prideful. It only hurts.
I could go on, but you know the rest. 😉
I love you all so much, k? Don’t forget that. ❤