Mortality

I always think it's crazy when someone says that this could be so-and-so's last Christmas. No one lives forever.  It could be any of our last Christmases.  On Thanksgiving weekend a young man from a town between Regina and Saskatoon went missing.  The police are now saying that they don't think they will find him alive.  I bet no one predicted that last year was his last Christmas.  He was someone's baby boy and I think that in the next few days they are going to learn what happened to him.  Although I am sure they need to know, no one told them last Christmas that it was going to be the last Christmas that they weren't haunted with this information.  And if the pain is unavoidable, it is so much better not to know.
I think that it is important to enjoy every moment and try not to predict the future.  This will be so many people's last Christmas this year, but it will also be many people's very first Christmas.  Some of those people who really weren't predicted to see another Christmas will come shining through next Christmas too.  Don't try to predict the unpredictable.  Mourn the loss if it happens.  Enjoy the present.
My dad was diagnosed with cancer in his early 30's.  He wasn't much older than I am now.  While I try to enjoy every moment and not be haunted by the chance of genetic predisposition, it definitely slips into my mind now and then.  He was 36 when he passed away.  He fought an incredible journey that he just could not win.  In the end it was a blessing that he left this world.  He was only a shell of the wonderful person that he used to be.  Fortunately for me, I was ten years old when he passed away.  I realize that it is strange that I used the word fortunately in that sentence.  The reason I was fortunate is that even though it is 22 years later, I was old enough to have wonderful memories of my dad.  I plan to be here to watch my children graduate, get married, and have beautiful children of their own.  But there is this tiny part of me that notes that when I am 36 they will only be four and seven.  Would that be old enough to remember me? 
It is strange how my brother and I feel the exact same thing.  We never discuss it but I know it's true.  We have handled it entirely differently.  I am a tiny bit of a hypochondriac.  Every pain, mole or twitch has me analyzing.  On the other hand, he tries to not to notice that anything is wrong and he avoids doctors like the plague.  I want to know the moment something is wrong so I have a chance.  He wants to ignore it because he's afraid to hear the words that he dreads.  We both try to ignore the crazy tiny voice in our minds and hope that it never matters.
Instead of fretting, I plan to enjoy every moment that I can with my kids and to make the most wonderful memories possible. Go away twitch.