(This is the beginning of the first entry.)
As I start writing this, I need you to understand something. I am not dying. I mean, not in any conventional sense of the word. I don’t have a disease that is making this journal the final act of a desperate man, eager to pass on his legacy to his two children.
I may not have the clarity of someone who is counting the minutes until his passage from one world to the next begins. I do, however, have the perceived luxury of time to share what I’ve learned with two of the most important people to ever come into my life.
I am not dying that I know of. I’m just a man who realizes that life and it’s ending is fleeing, fickle and often brutally abrupt.
