Too close for comfort.

I don't often think about my own mortality. And, I'm not sure that I am right now. But something is poking at my conscious mind and I guess I need to give it some attention. It started earlier this week with learning that a business associate had passed on after a brutal battle with cancer. I didn't know him very well, but well enough to know that he was deeply loved and respected by family and friends. I was very surprised at the wake to find several of his photographs around the room. I normally pick up one or two of the prayer cards offered by the funeral homes and keep them on my desk or as bookmarks. Strange as that may seem, it does insure that years later I still think about some of those that have passed that I otherwise may not have. In any case, no prayer cards. Instead, the family had printed a doubled sided booklet with his picture, a few of his photos and excerpts from a couple poems that he wrote. I didn't know that he liked nature photography and writing. I really liked his writing. I think maybe I understood a bit of it too. At barely 10 years older than me, his transition really hit home. Am I doing what I want, living my life for me? Am I putting off what's important to me? How long do I wait to do the things I want to do? Before it's too late...