The Two Most Important Days in Your Life?

This question is really part of a quote by Mark Twain. And I quote, “The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why”. A very interesting thought-provoking quote. I get the first part obviously, as the very existence is needed before the second day has any possibility. But the second part, wow, rather obvious to some and not to most. Those other questions of how, when, and where all come into play. Could you answer if asked why you were born? I’m not sure I could, at least not yet. But I have many events in my life that have seemed significant. However, significant to whom? Surely, if I feel a significance in something I would think that, at the very least, those in my inner circle would at least lead me to believe it was important. But what if your why was nothing more than a pawn in the game of life for someone or something else? It would certainly change the importance of one’s life and whether or not it had some impact or meaning. Just breathing easy but mumbling loudly because I just don’t know, and now a mere quote has upset the peacefulness of my day and maybe several days as I contemplate my why.

I was born sixty years ago, but the date is insignificant with the exception of my parent and parents before them. They continued the blood line fulfilling the hope for my descendants to come. We all hope to be remembered, some of us more than others. It is certainly why I wrote an unfinished book of my legacy albeit only through my eyes. What I mean is, I can tell you what I did, but it is after I’m gone that the true unanswered question can be answered as to whether the legacy I leave behind had meaning. When I was born, I was the first of two eventual children for my parents. I’m sure I was the source of much pride and endless possibilities they could see for me. Most of my life I was guided to succeed never knowing what that might look like but with the backing that I could and would be successful. I was surrounded by friends that were like minded to simply accomplish. That’s it, accomplish! Doesn’t matter what it is, just go out into the world and leave your mark whether it is life changing for many or just yourself. Put one foot in front of the other and continue on your journey throughout your life. But through all of the parental raising, I’m not finding the why of my existence. I might have fulfilled the why for either my mom or dad, you’d have to have the discussion with them to find their perspective.

During my upbringing, there are many things I remember that were heartwarming, joyous, sad, and gut wrenching. The times I had with my grandparents and those moments of realization of the importance they were to me. The shaping of my life and things to come belonged in part to them and their dedication to family and the example they set. It is easier to answer their why than my own. Is that how it works, we won’t know the why until we die? Or is the why really for someone else to conclude and if you’re lucky, is shared with you so that maybe you understand your role outside the sanctum of your mind. Maybe my why isn’t as simple a putting my finger on one thing in my life but more is a string of things pieced together to provide the my why.

When contemplating impactful events, I have several things come to mind. Hitting the last second basketball shot from half court. A moment that truly I remember in slomo with the ball flying through the air on target, the clock visible behind it going to zero during flight. That moment of swoosh through the net and my immediate look at my coaches coming from a full sitting  position to four feet in the air, arms raised and screaming. My second look to the stands to see my dad and the look of joy on his face. That memory is etched in my mind. I had other times not so joyous. The time I leg-swept a kid and punched him at the same time for getting in my face about something. My friends roaring their approval, but my instant regret, especially with the unsatisfying act of having pats on my back. Or when I punched someone in the face because I could and knew he couldn’t do anything about it. It has haunted me for a long time. I found out recently he had committed suicide. Did I have some hand in the hopelessness that he finally couldn’t live with? Not something I want to be my why. The crazy things I’ve done like riding a ten speed bike down Highway 9 from the Trough Road turn-off and hitting the seams to the bridge over the Colorado River at 57 mph or jumping across the finger gaps on the cliffs north of Kremmling, Colorado with hundred-foot drops between each one of them. Smoking cigarettes for thirty years without the thought that it might be what kills me. The craziness of the things we do without regard for ourselves or the impact it might cause on someone else. If I had died at my own hands for any of the stunts I pulled, how would that have changed my parents’ world? There are three people in this world that wouldn’t have existed had something happened in my youth and three adults that still could be impacted because I smoked and they all three followed in my footsteps even with the urging not to do so. What impacts would come from their loss and what discovery of my why would I come to then? That horrible feeling being pulled out of school because my grandfather passed. The added impact of my dad regretting not hitting the road a few days prior as we had planned and then missing the opportunity of saying goodbye. On the other hand, having my dad stop everything to play catch with a baseball. The feeling of accomplishment in making pride reveal itself on his face. The feeling of hopelessness when he was upset with my failures and yet somehow coming through with some positive message or action to get me going in the right direction again. The instant knowing on my mom’s face that the end was so near, the tears steaming down, but the instant flip in resilience that the most important people she could have were at her side to the end. Lessons or additions to my why or the why revealing itself through them? I’m not sure, but it gives me hope to find the answer. Maybe that moment of mom switching from tears to laughter, was when my mom discovered her why. Is that when it will come to us all, in a flash of clarity that our work is done or maybe that the work is just beginning?

Is my why another way of describing my purpose in life or is that where I am taking it and at some point, I realize they are or aren’t? I feel there is a multitude of questions in search of the ultimate question of why was I born. Maybe I am overthinking too much. Maybe the why is nothing more than a biography of our life written in our mind or the minds of those we leave behind. Maybe the why is simpler, in that maybe my parents were just having a good time and forgot protection and I was an accident. What would be the impact on myself if I lived my life thinking I was never meant to be? That’s a crappy thought and have I made any of my children feel the same laughingly calling one of them my oops baby? When the reality was that I wanted a girl so bad after having two boys that I couldn’t have been happier and I felt I had been given a gift from God when I was least expecting it? Could all of our why’s be intertwined and that without any one piece we could never derive the why of our exitance?  Our life would be filled with endless possibilities to an unanswered life.

The facts are I had two loving parents, three amazing grandparents, three children that are a part of my soul and two that came as a gift from God to show me there is more to life and love comes in forms we don’t see coming, but mean just as much. Numerous pets, thousands of people that have touched my life, opportunities at every turn, lots of prideful results and even regrets that shaped me. But, in the end, I still don’t know my why, only that I’m building up to it and hopeful with the clarity someday to finally answer Mr. Twain’s second question, “Why was I born?”.