Death and Taxes

I attended a memorial service yesterday for my dear Uncle James. He looked really peaceful and like his time here on earth was well spent. He didn't have what most people would call the best life. He was married, but in typical black people fashion, they didn't divorce, they just went their separate ways. He worked just about all of his life at a paving company called Mullins Brothers. He didn't make much money, just enough to take care of his kids and buy him his customary Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer and his beloved cigarettes. He lived with his mama, my grandmama, until she died almost four years ago. He then moved in with my aunt, who lived right next door and continued his same habit of telling jokes, cussing people out, and drinking his Pabst Blue Ribbon until he left this world last Sunday. I loved my uncle because he made smile and because he loved us so much. He often tell my daddy how proud he was of him and his family. Hell, he helped my daddy get himself when he and my mama first got married. I think that the only reason they're still together is because he made my daddy straighten himself up. I thank him for that. I'll miss him, but I know that he's much happier where he is now.

Since my uncle's death, I've been thinking about my life, a lot. I'm 25 years old, a single mother, and back in school for a radical career change from business to healthcare, specifically medicine. I don't think I have that much excitement going on. I live my life the way I see fit. I do things that will only improve my daughter's life and give me piece of mind. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore. I don't eat as healthy as I should and I feel bloated every second of every day. I guess you're wondering why I'm saying all of that stuff that seems unimportant. Well, it's quite simple, no matter how many kids you have, how many degrees you earn, if you get married, if you eat healthy and exercise everyday of your life, you're still going to die. Now for most of you reading this, you're already aware of this, but I didn't know that you die until my daddy told me this at 7 or 8 years old. I thought everybody lived forever. So, I'm not saying you shouldn't pursue your dreams, but just know this, when you're dead, you're dead. You don't get a second chance to do it all over again, but then again, when you're dead you won't remember what it was you always wanted to do or what you didn't get a chance to do anyway. The moral of this story is, there isn't a such thing as life. You are born to die. Life is optional, death is a certainty. Until the next time..........