Live Like I’m Dying: A New Perspective

This morning, I woke up early, mowed the lawn, and laid out flowers by the places they’ll soon be planted. I paused to look at my little butterfly garden — a tender space I’m creating in memory of my sister — and for the first time in a long while, I felt pride in my yard, in my home, and even in myself.

As I worked, the song Live Like You Were Dying came on. It’s a song I’ve always loved, but today it hit me differently than it ever has before.

When the song first came out, I thought of it as a “bucket list” anthem — the idea of cramming in adventures before time runs out. But now, after all I’ve lived through, I hear something deeper.

In 2021, Steve and I spent February through September driving across the United States and camping in our RV. It was the best trip of my life — full of beauty, laughter, and more than a few challenges. A wheelchair flying off the truck on the interstate, our truck catching fire in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and me running a fever with a sinus infection. Yet through it all, God was there, keeping His watchful eye on us. That trip became our last big adventure together, and nothing could ever compare to it.

Maybe what made the song feel so different today is that I’ve recently done something most people put off as long as they can — I made and paid for my own burial and celebration of life. It was heavy, and it was real. Facing those details forced me to accept something we all say but rarely feel deep down: I will die. One day, my time here will end. It’s one thing to know it in your head. It’s another thing entirely to sit with it, sign the papers, pay the bill, and accept it. Strangely, that acceptance also brought a sense of peace. I’ve lifted the burden from my family and friends, and in doing so, God has instilled in me a new awareness: life is fragile, precious, and too short to waste on bitterness or negativity.

So today, as the song played, I realized something: I don’t need to chase more experiences. I don’t need a bucket list. I’ve done the things my heart longed for.

What I need now — what I want now — is to live differently on the inside. To see every person, even the ones I’d usually judge or criticize, as my brothers and sisters in Christ. To extend kindness and compassion, even to those who “know not what they do.” To pour out love to the elderly, the sick, and even animals who need a voice.

Someone recently pointed out how negative I can be, and at first, I bristled at that truth. But today I saw it for myself. I don’t want to live as a critic. I want to live as someone who uplifts, forgives, and shows mercy.

I also want to care for myself again, not out of vanity, but out of gratitude. To take pride in my yard, to keep my home neat, to tend to my appearance — my weight, my health, my cleanliness. These are not small things. They are signs that I am choosing life, not just existing in it.

This is what “living like I’m dying” means to me now. Not skydiving or mountain climbing. But waking up with gratitude and planting flowers for someone I loved. Listening for God’s voice in a simple country song, choosing compassion over criticism, and remembering that joy is found not in the bucket list, but in becoming who God has called me to be.