Well, another new year and another digit to my age. I was born on New Year's Eve the day before 1960 began. I'm 64 now. I really didn't think I'd make it this far.
Over 30 years ago I was told by a doctor that I'd be dead within 6 months. Needless to say, I've disregarded premonitions by people in white coats almost completely ever since. I've been with the same doctor now for 20+ years. He's really more a friend with a prescription pad.
But, alas, I do believe that this is my last birthday. And I'm perfectly fine with that. I just want to go fast. I've watched too much family languish for months and years before they left us. I don't want that.
And I want to die at home just like two generations in this home before me were not allowed to do. So, I owe it to my grandpa and my mother to do for them what they wanted but weren't allowed to.
It's this Marine's final deployment to do for my ancestors that which they wanted most but were denied. So, this is the most important deployment and duty I have ever had assigned. And I intend to make it right for my ancestors.
Wish me luck 🤞. But I'm not going anywhere today, I don't think. There's still 6 hours left of the day. So, anything could happen.
But if you don't understand my mindset or are uncomfortable with the way I casually discuss death, don't worry. I'm not planning anything. I'm just thinking out loud.
All is well.