*This post contains talk about death. If that makes you uncomfortable, go read something else (and get a reality check while you're at it).

Today when I was at the pool, one of the regulars, who has got to be in his 70s or perhaps 80s, was proudly showing me all manner of scars on his back and stomach from recently going through surgery for various kinds (plural) of cancer. He told me he had just gotten out of surgery on the 18th (I'm not sure how true this was). This guy was smiling the whole time as he showed off his scars, and didn't seem fussed that there was a chance that they would get infected.

And then I watched him swim 100m, relatively quick for an old dude too.

Needless to say, this guy will be laughing to his grave. In a good way, mind you.

As it so happens, today marks 6 days since my dad died. ANZAC Day 2016.

I've thought about whether I'd would like to die like my dad did, heart attack without much fuss at all, or slowly like this old man at the pool.

Either way, I know one thing for sure.

I want to die laughing.

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Here's a video I made in honour of Dad a few years ago now. It's aged quite a bit already 🙂