I stopped by and saw an old friend today. He’s been dead since our senior year. I get by there once or twice a year. I remember the funeral, half the damn school showed up. I wonder how many really knew him. I wonder how many remember him now. I wonder how many still visit.
I knew him well. And while I remember him fondly, my visits have selfish motivations. I see his name and I remember that it just as easily could be my name on that marker. By some accounts, it probably should be. I see his name and I remember that soon enough my name WILL be on a marker somewhere and that it could happen any minute now.
Live well, die when it’s time. I can’t be bothered to spend any of the time I’ve got left scared of death or holding grudges.
So I visit for a few minutes, clean off the stray grass grown over the edge of his marker and leave with a smile on my face. I remember some of the good times with him, like how he could throw a wicked fastball that would jam your thumb every time. But I also remember that life isn’t a damn savings account. Spend it all when you get it, you can’t save it for later and you can’t get any on credit.
Have fun, no regrets, die tired.
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