I haven’t written anything in quite a while and it is actually a bit presumptuous of me to be writing this two days before my 55th birthday. Especially given that my reason for writing this is to somehow acknowledge the uncertainty of seeing another day and then to thus celebrate that you have. 

Personal experience has taught me that the tomorrow is truly not a guarantee. Something of a cliche´ I know, but also quite factual. And that projecting two days ahead is quite an audacious stand to take. My 55th birthday has special significance to me. Not based on the eye-opening fact that I will be now half way to 60 or that it signifies me getting older, but rather because both my parents left this world at what I now feel are very tender ages. My mother at 55, the age that resonates, and my father at 57. 

Of course I do not believe that because they left this earth early, that the same will befall me, but I would be lying if I said it has not made me think at times. I have certainly ambled down the lane of thoughts populated with concerns of not being here to experience certain milestones, or of maybe not having done enough, or of not achieving the things I have wanted, or not living the life I envisioned for myself. I imagine the many regrets they may have had leading up to their fateful days and the stark realization that true control over events is not one of our actual gifts. 

I wondered if they knew. If they were made divinely aware of what was impending. I sat across from my mother the day before she passed and chatted like it was a normal day. To the best of my recollection, she did not impart any last pearls of wisdom, or offered any insight that might have suggested that she knew the next morning would the last time she existed physically on this plane. It was a casual conversation, one that we had everyday, the only difference, this one we had in person. She came to my job on her way home and we sat at the cafe and spoke. That was different. In hindsight, one could think that was the tell. That maybe she knew on some divine level. But we will never know. 

In two days I hopefully will see that tender age of 55. And like with many realizations in life that a person has, this one has made me keenly aware of how young 55 truly is. Having experienced a lot of life thus far, as 55 is not just a blip in the lifespan of a person, I also simultaneously recognize that there could still be so many years left to live if one is blessed with such. 

Not knowing is the gift however. It is the repeating reminder to move forward and live. Experience on the other hand is the cautionary tale, that this too will someday come to an end, and usually without a warning. The only tangible experience of life we have are but mere breaths, one after the other, each one being a hope for the next, strung together in the past to create memories of what life was while offering us the possibility of continuity. 

With a certain arrogance we plan and project and see ourselves in the future. But seeing our future selves is what we must do, as it makes the need to breathe supremely important, because living is what I want to continue doing. So I will keep trying to breathe.

RJ. 2/9/25