Death is a strange thing. I like to think I'm not afraid of dying, rather afraid of the part leading up to it. It's comforting to believe my existence matters, but watching someone on they're way out is sobering...to say the least. My great grandmother was a wonderful woman. Once a skater in the Ice Capades, a mother of two amazing children, a loving wife, a proud Greek, a sassy lady and a whole list of other things. Of course she'll be greatly missed but as with anything else life goes on. All we take with us is our soul and all we leave is a memory. I guess what I'm getting at is this: I want my memory to last. Not in a famous, celebrity type way, but in a way that people remember how I shaped their life and encouraged them to lead a better one, filled with love. If I was put on this Earth for the sole purpose of loving and being loved, than that's enough for me. All I can hope for at the end of this strange life is that I'll be surrounded by people who care about me, filled with spiritual contentment and little, if no regret.
Oh and, by the way, Great Grandma Joann passed away on her 91st birthday.
Pretty good timing if you ask me.
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