- be able to play metallica - nothing else matters on guitar- be a mum- to never stop striving to learn and try new things- swim in each of the seven seas- have serial multiple orgasms✓- dive in the great barrier reef✓- work as a bar tender✓- sky dive✓- go zip lining✓- see a wild manta ray- be able to do the kapotasana pose in yoga- road trip in the states- fall madly in love with someone who’ll love me back✓- go skinny dipping in the moon light✓- live in another country- build an igloo- learn how to play the piano- walk the inca trail ✓- safari in africa- scuba dive to a large ship wreck✓- skiing in the alps✓- pee my name in snow- carnival in Rio de Janeiro- visit jerusalem- buy my own board and learn how to surf- be in two places at once✓- experience a lunar eclipse- run a marathon- be a vegetarian for a month- participate in the festival of colours india- watch the ball drop on times square- visit the pyramids- fly in a hot air balloon✓- cinnamon challenge✓- mosh at a concert✓- donate blood- learn spanish- do some time in the military- work in the fields of australia- kiss a naturally redheaded girl- fill a truck bed full of pillows and blankets and drive in the middle of nowhere to go stargazing- kiss underwater- paint (messy) twister- carve my name into a tree with someone i love- bathe in spaghetti- mile high club- be in zero gravity- lucid dream- watch baby sea turtles hatch
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.- Aaron Freeman
It is causing me pain, yet there’s something beautiful in being apart. The yearning makes me realise how much you mean to me. How big an impact on my life you’ve had. I’m glad i don’t take you for granted and i am grateful for all the moments we’ve spent together.I love you.