I was thinking yesterday somewhere during our joyous and delicious family-and-friends Thanksgiving dinner how much the fact of my death distorts everything around me. It is a leaden weight on the fabric of my life, a singularity into which everything I am, I do, and I love, is slowly collapsing until my own personal event horizons swallows me up.
We are all born to die. I’ve just had the dubious privilege of examining my death in very slow motion, incrementally, for almost six years now. Everything that happens these days happens for the last time (probably). I go through the motions of my life because I do not know what else to do. And because I want to live tomorrow, I live today.
So today we plan.