525,600 minutes,
Rent measured and sang that. That’s how a year passes – just like that. One morning you’re laughing with someone, and by nightfall, they’re no longer there. The past few years have blurred like that. Time moved forward, but it didn’t feel like growth, not really. It felt like shedding. Losing. Watching thinks break apart, quietly.
One Night, while lying in the dark, I caught myself asking: If I die today, who have I been?
It’s not the kind of question you ask expecting clarity. It’s slow unraveling. A catalogue of missteps. Of all the versions of myself I’ve been – the bad student, the impatient friend, the distracted son, the harsh boss, the partner who forgot to show up. I’ve made decisions I wish I hadn’t. Hurt people I didn’t mean to. Disappointed the ones I love.
But I’ve also lived. Not always fully. Not always bravely. But I’ve tried. And in trying, I’ve learned that living isn’t a clean arc of improvement. Sometimes it’s just surviving. Sometimes it’s just standing still.
I used to tell myself I don’t believe in regrets. But now I know – I carry many. I regret not taking Meechum on more walks in the mountains. I regret every time I left a hug half-hearted. Every time I swallowed sadness instead of letting it be seen. Every “I’m okay” when I wasn’t Every “next time” that never happened.
We lose ourselves slowly – not in a dramatic collapse, but in daily forgettings. I’ve made decisions I’m not proud of, often trading fleeting highs for lasting lows. In letting what matters be pushed aside by what’s urgent. In trading presence for performance. But if loss teaches anything, it’s that we don’t get to control the clock. We only get to choose how we fill it.
And so I ask myself again: If I die today, who do I want to be?
I want to be someone who wasn’t afraid to feel deeply. Someone who kept trying. Someone who chose love, even when it hurt. I want to be remembered not for being perfect, but for being real.
And on my tombstone, I’d want it written: “Here lies Jose Margo: He lived, and it meant something.”