Two years ago today, an uncle of mine sat up in bed on a Sunday morning, had a massive brain hemorrhage, and died.
It was a bolt from the blue: he wasn’t ancient or decrepit; in fact, he was only recently retired.
His death sent shockwaves through my extended family, and it continues to reverberate to this day.
And now, as the country and the world continue to live with shocking levels of death, I wonder how this experience might change us.
I recently heard a quip that everyone has two lives — and the second starts as soon as they realize they only have one.
My uncle’s death might have been that moment for me. A year or two from now, I wonder how we’ll all choose to live.