Intro: What I Would Say if I had 10 Weeks to Live?
I hope that when you are reading this I am still 5 feet seven inches above ground (Okay 5'6 and a half. Can you focus please?). But just in case, I am glad I got to write whatever this is down.
I once asked your grandpa to tell me the story of his life with my mother. She died when I was 3 and I only had fragments of stories to tell me who she was. He wrote me a letter and planned to write more. He died last before he could, but that bit he did write brought me some clarity. And joy.
I wanted to do the same for You.
Whether I live to be 100 or until next week, I want You to know the things I have done. The things I have learned so far. Who I am and who I still want to be.
I had already started writing to you when I got an idea to write this all in 10 weeks. I was reading a newsletter and there was a line that said something like, “imagine that you are dying. If you had a terminal disease and 10 weeks to live, would you finish [writing] this book?” It hit me that this was the writing I needed to get on with. The rest could wait.
So the time period is arbitrary. 10 weeks felt more substantial than eight. And the year was ending in 12 weeks so I wanted to be done with a draft before the holidays. So 10 it was.
“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory”
A lot of dying in this first note huh?
I don’t have a fear of death. Not really. A healthy curiosity maybe. Really, I just want a say in how it goes down. Like I would rather stop a robbery and save a bank full of lives than be slain in a home invasion or get dysentery from contaminated lettuce. (That really happened. The 2020's were wild).
But more importantly, I want a say in how the time from now until... “ya know” goes. If the average age of death for a male in the US is 76.3 years I have roughly 37 years left. That is eons. And also mere moments. And none of those moments is sweeter than my time with you. To be fair you were 7 when I started writing this. Adorable. You are 9 now. Based on your current rate of diminishing adorableness and increasing sass, I may live to do a rewrite). Jokes aside, being your dad has been my best, most challenging, and most enjoyable work. You are the best of me. Full stop.
When I started writing to you I wanted to give you tangible action steps. I wanted it to be sage advice like a monk on the mountaintop. Life changing guru level stuff. I'm sure you will find plenty in my notebooks. But now I just want you to see me through these notes.
They probably won't be in order. Some may not even make sense. Mayhap's I'll include the date I wrote the note sometimes. Maybe not. We'll see. There will be poetry. Quotes. A fair bit of irreverence so I hope you are age appropriate when you see these. And whether you take anything from them is completely up to you. At least you will have a peek into our life. Our past. The things I wish I'd known. Done. The adventures had and missed.
It won't be too polished. Thats what held me up for so long. Reminds me of this saying about having ADHD. “It doesn't have to be done, it just has to be perfect.” That was me for years on this. Still is on many other things.
But this is something I have been writing in notebooks for a long time.
Now I am putting it here.
For you. My Somebody. For Someday.