57
For most, it’s just a bland number.
For some, maybe a flavorful steak sauce.
For me, 57 is both sacred and sobering.
My father (pictured here with Ryan) took his last breath at 57.
Not old. Not finished. Just… done.
As I approach 57, I can’t help but wonder: 🤔
Did he know it was his final year?
Did he feel time closing in the way I sometimes do now?
Genetics are powerful. Those questions linger.
Could 57 also be my last year?
I don’t believe it will be.
But turning 57 has both forced and encouraged me to stare mortality in the face—the way life eventually requires all of us to do.
Many of us are now at the stage where the diseases we once associated only with our parents and grandparents are showing up in our own circles.
Friends and family members—people we thought had decades left—are getting sick and/or heading HOME far sooner than feels fair.
I’m definitely not afraid of dying.
Those soulful peeps who know me well already know that.
What I fear far more is not fully living. 😳
So I’m choosing to let 57 be a light instead of a shadow.
A clear wake-up call that life is short and precious.
57 is my reminder to do what I came here to do—before it’s too late.
To live fully and fearlessly.
To serve selflessly others who haven’t been as blessed as me.
To leave this world a little better than I found it.
To say thank you to everyone who has touched my life in ways big and small. (THANK YOU!) 🙏
To take the trip, buy the tickets, spend the money, see the sights, make amends, contribute to the causes, and soak in the beauty and love that surrounds me every single day.
Whether you’re approaching 27, 57, or 87, I invite you to do the same.
It’s not death that’s the tragedy.
It’s getting to the end and realizing you never really lived.
57 is my powerful, timely reminder of that truth.
I hope it can be one for you, too.
Watch out, 57 – You’re not coming for me. I’M COMING FOR YOU‼️