If I'm being truthful, I've been working on this for awhile (when I say a while, I mean I started it in February then completely forgot about it). A few weeks ago I stumbled upon it in my drafts and felt it timely to revisit it after a man very close to me passed away and left me thinking about death more than I typically do. When I began writing, I didn't fully intend to post my thoughts as I was using the article more so as an avenue to jot out the confusing happenings in my brain instead of a publishing of my work; after all, I'm not the best when it comes to vulnerability. The original intent of this piece changed, however, when a week after I began working on the writing once more, 59 lives were tragically taken in the harrowing events that occurred in Las Vegas.

Within the past month, an extremely involved 16-year-old from my neighboring hometown took his own life, a husband and cross-country coach shockingly died in a bus accident, and an 89-year-old World War II veteran peacefully passed away in his sleep. A mother lost her son, a student lost her best friend, husbands lost their wives, and I lost one one of my favorite storytellers. You think you'll get the chance to say goodbye, but then you wake up on day and they're just...gone.

To put it simply, death is not a fun thing to talk about. It's uncomfortable. We'd much rather talk about the excitement of the world and the joyous times than speak of the day that someone you cared for passed away. In a blink all of the stories you shared become memories only relivable in your mind and all of the "can't waits" turn to "should haves". It's hard to lose someone you love. It's even more difficult to adjust to living and going on with your own every day life without them.

I've struggled a lot when it comes to coming to terms with death, and for some odd reason I've recently become very aware of my own mortality. I'm not sure if it's a result of what seems to be an influx of lives taken in cold blood or if I'm merely more cognizant of the loss occurring around me, but I think about the end of my own life and of the lives of people I love more often than most probably tend to do. Please let me note that this does not mean that I want to die necessarily; yes, I yearn to be with my Heavenly King, but I know that my life and work here on earth is not yet done and that He's not finished working in me-- I've just simply come to realize just how temporary this life really is and how quickly it can be taken away.

Friends, it's so so so easy to get caught up in what the future holds and to live like tomorrow is promised. Tomorrow is not certain. The truth is, we have no clue what day will be our last on this earth. So, what do we do in the meantime?

We live. We go to concerts. We listen to music. We dance. We sit around bonfires. We get married. We have kids. We bake. We eat sweets. We take long walks on the shoreline of the ocean. We take spontaneous road trips. We climb mountains. We don't let loved ones go to bed upset. We consider it joy when we face trials. We give strong hugs. We let our parents know our appreciation for them. We listen to stories. We laugh. We cry. We give. We forgive. And overall, we love.

If I were completely honest, I would say that I'm in the stage of denial still that the elderly man, Marion "Lucky" Foddrill, is no longer on this earth with me. I won't get to hear his stories anymore. His paintings will go unfinished. His hands will never hold mine while he's telling my dad how lucky he is for having my mom, my sister and me. My dad will never to be able to reply, "No, you're Lucky," playing off of the war veteran's nickname and good fortune. I'm sure that the loved ones of the victims of the senseless attack in Vegas feel about the same in most regards.

BUT-- I'll hold joy in my heart for the times we did have with him and for the impact he made on my life. That's all I'll be able to do, and I'll have to be okay with that until we someday meet once again in the only life that lasts. I choose to live even while knowing that someday my death will not be my choice, as so sorrowfully exemplified in the tragedy in Vegas, the hurricanes in Puerto Rico, the tornado in Joplin, and the car accidents in Columbia. I'll cry alongside them and mourn with their loved ones as they begin the healing process. I'll choose to tell people's stories and let them know that they're loved in hopes that they do the same. I really do write like I'm running out of time because, the truth of the matter is, I am, and I will try to live accordingly.