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May 14, 2010

It’s my birthday this Monday and I’ll confess, I used to have an issue about turning 26. It’s nothing to do with being closer to 30 – though I admit it used to – it’s the age my father was when he died. If I spend long enough thinking about it, I freak out a little ever so slightly; I have been alive for the same chunk of time that he was (I once did a morbid calculation to match up the exact time period in months and days) and because I was too young to have any memories of him, I used to fall into a trap of comparing my life so far to his, and then beating myself up for not achieving the same things he did.

I’m much more relaxed about it now and I don’t have a burning desire to commemorate the year ahead as I used to. It took me a long time to realise that I can’t live a life to silently honour someone who is gone, it somehow shifts the emphasis from your own life and death is usually a good lesson in knowing that life is important.

So instead, my only aim for the coming year is to enjoy it as much as possible. So far, so good.

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