The older I become, the more I consider ... what makes a good death?
"To drum-beat and heart-beat
A soldier marches by
There is color in his cheek
There is courage in his eye.
Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat
In a moment he must die." -Francis Miles Finch
I don't know exactly... but as for the living, one should consider themselves fortunate to fall asleep with the sound of the ocean whispering softly in their ears...
"By starlight and moonlight
He seeks the Briton's camp.
He hears the rustling flag
And the armed sentry's tramp
And the starlight and moonlight
His silent wanderings lamp." -Francis Miles Finch
To awake and stretch their weary limbs... to stare out the window in the early dawn at the rolling clouds of swirling rain pelting the waves... to lace up an old pair of busted-in shoes, wrap yourself in a sweatshirt still soggy from the day before, and head out unto the limitless stretches of sands. It's a duty... a calling, to jog along the beach waves in the pouring Oregon rain.
"In the long night, the still night
He kneels upon the sod
And the brutal guards without
E'en the solemn word of God.
In the long night, the still night
He walks where Christ hath trod." -Francis Miles Finch
Soaked and aching, legs throbbing, lungs burning... there's no regret on mornings like these.