A Little Question for You

There was a firefighter in Chicago who was killed earlier in this week while doing his job. He was an extremely well-liked man, and everyone who described him said he was friendly, always had a smile on his face and willing to help others. Hundreds of people came out to his funeral to show their support.
Maybe it's a morbid way to look at life, but when I feel like I'm sort of just going through the motions in life, I ask myself, "What would your funeral look like? Would you have hundreds of people who would say you were undoubtedly friendly and funny and kind?" It's hard for me to get on board with the whole "live each day as if it were your last" because that makes my mind spiral into negative thoughts of, "Oh my gosh, I hope today's not my last day!" and then the majority of my day is wasted on thinking about how sad it would be if today really were my last. With that being said, I do believe it's important to have a reality check once in a while and ask yourself what your funeral will look like and think about what will be said about you. What mark will you have made on peoples' lives? Will you have touched anyone or played it safe and not risked loving anyone or opened up enough to share who you are?
Like I said, it's morbid, but why not think about these things while we're alive instead of when it's too late? Each day is a gift, whether you believe in God or not, it's a gift all the same, and it's one we all take for granted.
I almost never watch TV, so maybe this proves the point that I should continue to not watch TV, especially the news. But I guess it's good to be aware of tragedy and pain, so we can internalize it and grow from it.
Just something to put in your back pocket. If you ask yourself what your funeral will look like, if you can be honest enough with yourself, you will definitely make some sort of changes in your life eventually. The one change I've been working on is staying in contact with people instead of always just emailing. I always find that I'm too busy to pick up the phone, but that's just poor prioritizing on my part. As I lay here in bed, a basket full of clean clothes sits next to me for the third night in a row and it's not driving me crazy like it once would have. I don't want people at my funeral to say, "Oh, she was a neat, tidy gal who did a bang-up job with laundry!"