Tell Me When My Time’s Up

What is there to say about life?

I always feel like I could be doing so much more with my life, mainly because I know that I can be. I mean don’t get me wrong, binge watching your favorite show on Netflix for the fiftieth time will finally get you to notice that one hair twitch that changed the course of the entire series and ultimately your life is super crucial.

I do not mean that in any serious way, but I just start to question what I could be doing instead of watching The Secret Life of the American Teenager for the tenth time (go ahead and judge, I know it’s ridiculous and I own it). I could finish reading the book I started over the summer, or one of the seven crochet projects I’ve started over the last few years, apply to grad school! Oh, wait… I actually did apply to grad school, and I also have an interview for that… I should start prepping for that…

The thing about life is that we never really realize how short it is until we look back at old calendars with only doctor’s appointments written down, or yearbooks in which maybe five people wrote in it including your two favorite teachers. Maybe it’s not even going through these old mementos, but rather going to a funeral/memorial of someone that you knew.

This happened to me recently. I went to the memorial service of a girl that I went to middle school with. When I first met her, I wasn’t too sure if I even wanted to know who she was because of the people that she hung out with. They weren’t very kind to me, and I wasn’t too sure if she was the same way. Fast-forward a year later, and I am on a bus with her on our way to Mexico on a mission trip. I got to know her really well. She was very kind and empathetic. I liked spending that time with her.

We get back to the States, and we didn’t talk much after that. Life just got crazy busy for both of us, and we lost contact with each other. Several years past and we are in December of 2014. I see a Facebook post saying that she had passed away. I just couldn’t believe it. The sweet girl I met was no longer around.

I sat staring at my computer screen just waiting to feel something. Anything.

Is this real life?

And then it hit me. I felt as though I had been catapulted back into the hotel room I was in on February 23, 2013 when I had two phone calls with two very important people. It was like I could almost hear both Lindsey and Teri saying that Paul had passed away. I felt like everything was still and I could just hear my heart beating. The knot began to form in my throat. I sat in shock.

While I sat at my friend’s memorial service, I kept going back to Paul’s death. This wasn’t to say that I didn’t think of my friend either, it’s just that they both had the same shock factor and it was like I was going through the experience along with this current death.

My friend had plans to make herself better; to make a better life for her daughters. Paul was filming as an extra and he wanted to continue his music. They were actively doing something with their time and lives.

I’m over here shipping Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak.

I want my life to be meaningful and not just empty calendars with appointments written on them. I want to write a book (about what, I have no clue). I want to be proficient at the ukulele. I want to learn how to be a barista. I want to go to awesome concerts. I want to run a half marathon (training for it counts, right?). I want to fall in love. I want to do things that can help people. I want to change lives.

But to do that, I need to leave my room. I need to stop being lazy.

Oh, Lord, give me strength.

Love & hugs,
Becky

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