For my entire life I had a mission.
As a child growing up in chaos, my mission was to grow up and have a stable family.
In middle school, my mission was to get straight A’s and become high school valedictorian.
In high school, it was to graduate 1st and get into a good college so I could become a successful doctor or lawyer.
After dropping out of college, my mission was to work my way through night school to get a good job.
Once I met Ellen, my mission was to be a good husband, stepfather and provider.
I got straight A’s.
I graduated high school as Valedictorian.
I went to night school and eventually worked my way into a series of good jobs.
I became a good husband, stepfather and provider.
For 30 years, my mission in life was to work hard and take care of my wife. I worked long hours, pushed myself hard and saved money to ensure she’d have good life.
In the process, we had a good life together.
Then she died.
It’s been 18 months since my wife died.
I have no mission.
I sold our house and moved into a camper to live on the road. Then I sold the camper and bought a house in a different state a few months later.
I kept up with a strenuous fitness routine. I learned a bunch of new skills from refinishing furniture to painting. I started playing the drums again.
I am now semi-retired by living frugally and hoping to stretch out my savings until I hit social security age. If possible, I’ll never return to the corporate sales world.
Taking care of my dogs and my health are my primary activities now.
But these are not missions. They are simply pleasant ways to pass the time.
I wonder if I’ve completed my mission and fulfilled my life’s purpose already.
Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe there will be nothing else for me but the ups and downs of a simple life and my memories of the past.
If that’s the case, I’m OK with it.
I’ve had a full life. I had love. I had a family. I had good friends and good times. I had struggles, failures and accomplishments.
I’ve got nothing left to live for – which is different than saying I want to die. I don’t want to die right now, but if I do, I’m OK with that too.
My dogs will be taken care of. Either my sister will take them or they’ll go to a shelter and will likely be adopted because they are small, housebroken and cute.
My remaining family will be taken care of because they’ll inherit my house, my money and a decent life insurance policy.
I am at peace.
Perhaps this is why I am not afraid of my upcoming surgery.
I am not afraid of Covid-19.
I am not afraid of an economic meltdown.
I am not afraid to die.
I hope I find a new mission and purpose bigger than me. I feel like I have much left to contribute to family, friends and society.
Perhaps I will.
Perhaps not.