I know, it’s a morbid topic, but it is absolutely true. We will all die. If you think about it, even if we live to be 117 years old (the age I will be if I get to see the year 2100) it’s just the blink of an eye in the grand scheme. Ever since my grandfather passed away last summer, my own mortality has been weighing on me. The thought that in ten years, I will be 45; the last ten years have flown by. I could realistically be a grandpa. I fall into the trap of what I haven’t gotten accomplished. My professional life is just barely starting, my colleagues are mid- to late-twenties when they start. I haven’t traveled to enrich myself. I could go on… Realistically, it’s not a bad thing to finally face and accept one’s own mortality. Thinking of how you want to spend the next 70 years. What you want to leave behind, in terms of your loved ones memories. How full a life you want to live, and what that means for you. Some pe