And that's ok. It's true everyday, and one day will become inevitable.
I will die imperfect. So will you. It may be sad, and it may be tolerable. If I die suddenly and soon, you will be unprepared (I imagine, so will I). That will be harder than if you remind yourself- as I will- that I may die today. If I die young, and since I think anyone shy of 60 young, it is a certain possibility, then it may feel tragic. You may want to idolize my memory, my name, the things I used to say. I give you permission in advance to let these things go. To remember me warts and all, for how I am ornery at times, and for how I have a tendency to go crazy when living in cold dark climates too long, or when I choose to not say what I mean and by the time I'm ready to talk I blame you for it, even if it's not your fault. I give you permission to be sad, but also a little relieved, because I can be difficult even though you love me.