Kicking the Bucket

Hello. My name is James, and I'm about to kick the bucket.

In a purely metaphorical sense.

I hope.

For lack of a better place to start, let's start with last Sunday (the 7th of March).

On a social networking site, I was forwarded one of those silly quizzes. "When will you die?"

A bit of a lark, really. Everyone else had scored 75-85. My habits aren't THAT bad. I gained "a little" weight. Sure I'm depressed over my divorce. But I bet I still get 70.

I start working on the questions. Now I'm starting to sweat. Back in November of 2008, I was in the hospital 3 times with chest pains, and heart-attack like symptoms.

NO ONE - not even the cardiologist - was THIS thorough in assessing diet, family history, mental health, medication interaction, fitness etc. But it's just a quirky little quiz.

The result floored me.

"When will you die: July, 2011".

Holy f...I mean holy cow.

Sheesh.

It's just a stupid quiz. I'm not gonna strap on armor and smite sinners because the D & D quiz said I'd make a good Paladin. I'm not going to be a minister because another quiz said that would be my best profession.

But this was different.

No, I'm not saying I will really die in 2011.

I AM saying that it is a "shot over the bow". If you read pirate stories as a kid, you know that's like a warning, but quite a bit more serious.

In short, something has to give.

I cleaned out my fridge. I ate or got rid of all the "bachelor food" in my room. I started walking.

Then I started writing a list. A "bucket list".

It started with about 25 items, it's now up to about 58. I imagined that I really were on my deathbed in July of '11. What would I wished to have done? To have been? Were there people to make amends to? Were there people to forgive? Were there people to tell off?

There's a program at the local hospice, based on the book "A Year To Live" by Stephen Levine. In this group, you pick a "death date" about a year out. Then you attempt to live your fullest year ever.

Your "good day to die" is then taken as a retreat day. They have guided meditations that can help simulate the experience.

Then, unlike the people you are about to help if you're training as a volunteer, you get off your "deathbed".

Then begins the first day of the rest of your life. How will you live THEN in light of what you've just undergone?

So there it is. My day, my "good day to die" is July 11, 2011.

There's no particular logic to that choice. It just has a nice ring to it.