Many places I have been
Many sorrows I have seen
But I don't regret
Nor will I forget
All who took that road with me

Billy Boyd, The Last Goodbye

I am weak; I am a fragile creature. I know that's not what the script says. I'm supposed to puff my chest and live like my end date isn't already punched. We do that, don't we? We just go on and on ad nauseam with our polarizing politics and our polished prattle.

And yet, I rub my left shoulder from December 2020...my elbow from the spring's pre-sunrise run...or this knee from August...or that August bit of ceramic in my foot. I need no reminders. It is everpresent that we are all under entropy; We are all breaking down.

I'm reminded of these Flaming Lips' lyrics:

Do you realize
That everyone you know someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes
Let them know you realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
Doesn't everyone know we're all about to die?

Gone are the summers of my youth. They were here—I had them—I turned my back for just a second, and now they are gone.

But, death is not annihilation. Truthfully, I'll never die. And this fascinates me. Yes, sometimes I get caught up with what I'm supposed to be sad about...until I come to my senses. On this side of things, I gaze out on the horizon and think of the separation—sure, death, but also the realization that people may still be alive who once played a prominent role in my life are now...just gone. And the last time I saw them, I sure didn't think it would be the last time I would see them. It would be paralyzing if I knew.