June 16th, 2084

Last week I was in a virtual meeting with a representative from an insurance company (whose name I won't reveal, but it's the opposite of SE Exclusive) and my wife. The representative had built out a financial plan for us and was currently discussing permanent life insurance.

To help sell you on the idea, they have algorithms that graph out the span of your life and tell you the percentage chance you become temporarily or permanently disabled. They also present you with an exact date in which you might die. Mine was June 16th, 2084.


As strange as this sounds, it's a normal experience for us post-college adults who are being hawked insurance by these companies. I'd actually had this pitch given to me about six years ago after I graduated college, but for some reason, this one hit me harder. I'm almost thirty. That's three decades of life gone by. I have two more, three-decade time spans left, if I'm lucky.


I had trouble focusing on the conversation that followed. I began calculating how many years I had left between now and 1984. What would happen on June 15th? Would I wake up that day and have a few hours left? Would Joenelle (my wife) be there with me?


I quickly became overwhelmed with thoughts of my own death, brought on by an insurance companies algorithm. Before I knew it, the call was ending and I was nearly hyperventilating.


There is value in contemplating our own mortality, but we must not let it consume the space in our mind meant for enjoying the life we still have.


We do not know the date we'll take our last breathe, thank God. We do know that that date will inevitably come. And that is all the contemplation our mortality requires.


So for those of us who still have life yet to live, let us live it.