December 13th, 2021…the one and only
Yesterday we had breakfast with a close friend who is mourning the loss of her father. She told me that beyond the sadness, a lot of her mental energy was going toward the contemplation of her own and everyone’s mortality. It’s not something that I’ve personally spent a lot of time on, but her articulation suggested to me that there is real value in doing so. I’m an optimist. I tend to flee from dark thoughts and gravitate toward positivity. Deeply contemplating one’s own mortality and that of all around him doesn’t exactly square with such a modus operandi…at least on the surface.
That said, since the conversation, I have held onto something she shared as part of her reflection. She said something to the effect of: “This is the only today that will ever exist. There will never be another December 12th, 2021…ever. So do something with it.” Today when i got to work, I wrote that down on a large piece of paper and affixed it to my desk. What a powerful prompt to internalize each morning. “Oh, you’re tired? Well this day is never gonna happen again. When you look back on this day, will it be defined by some lazy twitter scrolling and a couple of meetings, or can you reach for something that will mark the day as actively lived? Will this day be valuable, valued, and distinct from the rest?”
If there’s only gonna be one of this day…ever…I want to stamp it with something that stands out from the routine and ritual and motions that fill less intentional living. It’s common to contemplate your death bed as a lens through which to look at big decisions. Such a lens can be clarifying when you know the weight or import of what’s at hand. But applying such a lens to the day-to-day…to the seemingly unremarkable…making sure you don’t let one go by without it’s special stamp…that’s a newer and inspiring thought to me.
Jordan Cooper's Blog: startups, venture capital, etc... 
Condolences to your friend. There’s something about a daughter losing a Father too early that cracks you, opens you up, and makes you vulnerable in a way that is beyond comprehension unless you’ve experienced it. Losing her Father has made her appreciate each day like she will on her last because in a way, she has died a bit already. She’s bringing a message from the future so others don’t have to experience the same regret to gain the wisdom from what she’s experienced. It sounds like she had a good Father and she is his legacy. Thank you for spreading the message for her, him, me, and my Father too.
Vickie Brennan
December 13, 2021