I think these behaviours might result from the realization that there's more of life behind than ahead. It's scary seeing a limit to all the potential things one might do. I think these actions could surface when it becomes impossible to ignore there is an actual personal end. Kids may learn about death when their hamster dies or goldfish turns belly up. Yet, it's not really possible to think of it in a personal way until one reaches one's fifties. Surely, it's not yet staring me in the face, but it's way over there, in the distance, waving.
Perhaps these ideas have been prompted by the death of Jack Layton, Canadian NDP leader. He was respected as an enthusiastic candidate and politician even if one didn't agree with his politics. He led his party to recent wins. Then, in the matter of a few months he battled prostrate cancer as well as a second type. He shocked the public a month ago showing up frail and weak, and died in the early morning hours yesterday. He was 61.
I'm only 52 now. Yet, I'm left wondering whether I'll have just nine years left. What about even less? As we know life comes with no guarantees. This event has made me wonder how to maximize each day to its fullest. It has reminded me that much of what people worry about is, in the end, trivial. I've no sage advice, no suggestions, and certainly no answers.