When my son went backpacking in Australia, I kept thinking about the fact that it was an awfully big adventure for him. That very phrase "an awfully big adventure" just kept going through my mind.
When I read his wishes for his funeral, I screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. He wanted the piece from Peter Pan reading that ended "To die will be an awfully big adventure". I'm not a screamer, but it freaked me out and I screamed until there was no scream left in me.
He'd lived with the premonition that he would die young, and he had tried to tell me, but I didn't hear and I should have done. It must have been so difficult for him living with that knowledge when he loved life so much.
He loved life so much.
