If I Had My Life to Live Over...

Unique Perspectives: If I Had My Life to Live Over...

By Kim Stevens

If I Had My Life to Live Over…

I was recently given a new desk by a client, who is so much more than a client. While cleaning out the old desk to make room, I found a piece of paper I hadn’t seen in years.

It was something I’d discovered in my grandfather’s things after he passed, more than 30 years ago. I kept it because it was his… and because the words felt worth remembering.

Here’s what it said:

If I had my life to live over, I'd try to make more mistakes next time. I would relax. I would limber up. I would be crazier than I've been on this trip. I know very few things I'd take seriously anymore.

I would take more chances. I would take more trips. I would scale more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets. I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans. I would have more actual problems and fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I was one of those people who lived prophylactically and sensibly—insanely hour after hour, day after day.

Oh, I’ve had my moments. And if I had it to do all over again, I’d have many more of them. In fact, I’d try not to have anything else—just moments, one after another—instead of living so many years ahead of my day.

I’ve been one of those people who never went anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had it to do over again, I’d travel lighter—much lighter than I have.

I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later into the fall. I would ride more merry-go-rounds, catch more gold rings, greet more people, pick more flowers, and dance more often.

If I had my life to live over… but you see, I don’t.

—From the Journal of Humanistic Psychology by an 82-year-old man dying and accepting death.

I found it the day after my best friend's sister passed away.

Lyn was everything. I remember being a young girl, completely enamored by her. She was beautiful, kind, funny, radiant… and she drove a chartreuse Datsun 240Z. I mean, come on, who wouldn’t want to be her?

She lived life like a rock star—but she was a second-grade teacher. Maybe it was the tragedies that gave her that spark. She lost her dad young. Lost her first husband. Fought cancer. And then it came back.

But here’s the thing I loved most about her: she lived until she died.

She still went to the shore with the kids. She threw her New Year’s party. She showed up at concerts. She didn’t stop living—not ever.

So as I get ready to go to her funeral this morning, I’m thinking about that piece of paper from my grandfather’s desk… and I’m thinking about Lyn.

And I still want to be just like her. 

“I would ride more merry-go-rounds and catch more gold rings and greet more people and pick more flowers and dance more often…”