29 years, 4 months, 13 days young

My father was 29 years, 4 months, and 13 days old when he was killed in a work accident. Today I am that old, and if I were to have my ticket punched right now I would go down knowing that in nearly 30 years I have done nothing that really matters.

It happened 26 years ago on January 30th. I was 3 when we lost him. Out of his four children this makes me the lucky one. I don't know what I missed out on. I don't want to paint the wrong picture. My family has been honest with me about him and he definitely was not perfect. He was many things to many people, but to us he was dad. Most people can't guess what it's like not having that man in your life that already knows everything you want to ask, but I'll tell you that it feels like a disadvantage to not have him here.

Now, I find myself to be exactly as old as he in his final moments. For the world to lose me would not be as big of a deal as it was for us to lose him. As I've said, I haven't brought change to the world, or been a beacon of hope to those who need me. I haven't married, or raised a family. I've only been humble things, and even then I'm not always humble about it. There is hope for me yet though.

Time will get you when it wants you. You can't run. You can't hide. All you can do is live, until you can't. Now that I'm on borrowed time something has changed within me though. I felt it growing for a while now, and I think I'm ready to face it. If things went a little different, I'd already be gone. Since I'm still here, I guess I have nothing to fear. It's not like I'll get a warning when the time comes, so living cautiously doesn't make sense. In fact, living cautiously is probably the reason that I feel I have achieved so little.

Maybe in another 26 years I'll look back at my life and think he would be proud of what I've done, but I can guarantee that if I live in fear as I have, just hoping to live to be this old, I will probably waste the rest of my life too. So happy rebirth day to me. I'll make you proud dad.