RIP Whitney

So much will be written and spoken about the sad and untimely death of music legend, Whitney Houston. Reflection will focus on two things: her amazing gift and the demons that haunted her. As I type these thoughts, there is no conclusive evidence indicating the cause of death, yet most believe or at least wonder if she once again fell victim to her drug addiction. Regardless, what is universally felt is that she was much too young to die, and hers was a voice much too soon silenced. And every time I hear of someone's passing, I think of those left behind who knew and loved that person. What is the legacy with which they are left? Then I wonder what will be said of my life when it is over.

I want to have lived well into old age for a number of reasons. First, I want to watch my grandchildren grow up and see what kind of men they will become (at present I have 4 grandsons and zero granddaughters; one day I hope that will change). I want them to know their grandma adores them and believes in them. To quote Dr. Phil, I want to be one of their soft places to fall.

Second, I want to be here for my children. I want them to live out their lives and begin their golden years before I'm forced to leave them. That seems the natural order of things. I want lots of years during which we can be friends. Years when I'm not still rearing, correcting, or disciplining them. I want those years to be distant memories, and the latter years to be ones when we can know, appreciate, and love each other.

Third, I want to spend as many years as possible untethered from a passionless day-to-day routine. I want to enjoy the freedom to pursue things that bring joy to my life. Time with my husband. Traveling. Writing. Reading wonderful books. Playing with my grandsons. A simple, peaceful life. A life filled with all that really matters. Then I can be certain that the legacy I leave my children and grand children is the example of a life well lived.

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