A Letter to My Future, Productive and Reliable Self

Looking into the future, I see many things.

Of course, I cannot actually see the future, or know what will happen; but I can envision my life ahead.

My last article covered a letter to my younger self (read here). I spoke at great length about the regrets I have had during my youth.

I mentioned how I miss the “good old days,” and the people I have lost along the way, among various life opportunities.

The article had a happy ending, though, as it was not all doom and gloom. I have a great life, a wife and kids, and everything I have ever wanted, including my dream career as a funeral director. I want to be clear about that.

However, I still struggle from time to time about my past. The mistakes, the regret, the missed opportunities. But I cannot go back in time. 

To rid myself of the past, and focus on my present and future, I am writing today about my future, productive and reliable self.

Since my last article centered around the previous 40 years of my life, this article will focus on the next 40 years. I will be writing to myself at age 80, instead of the 40 years old I will be turning this September.

When I am 80 years old, the year will be 2064.

That in itself is wild to think about. It’s such a long time away, and yet, I’m halfway there, today, writing this. Our glass is half full, though, and not half empty. There are still 40 years to go!

Dear Noah,

The last time we spoke, I was from your past. This time, I’m from your future. I know, this time travel business can be confusing, but trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.

Regret be damned, you finally went for it, buddy.

You started living on your terms, doing what you loved, and not what others wanted you to do. This included your wife, with whom you have celebrated 42 wild, and devoted, years of marriage. She didn’t always agree with your career-altering moves or decisions, but respected and loved you enough to trust in you.

You were right in taking calculated risks this time around. Your family was your priority. Your children and the time you spent with them won out. You ditched the everyday working man’s schedule for time. You wouldn’t trade that for any amount of money.

I’ll bet most 45-year-olds don’t say they made less money than the years before and were happy with it. You chose time over money.

Don’t get me wrong Noah, as I said, family and being able to provide for them was always at the forefront. When you decided to take yet another break from funeral service, your writing had taken off. 

When you left funeral service the first time, back in 2022; you had to. It saved your life. When you left in 2029, you did so via free will.

You were still involved though. I know how important funeral service is to you. Your wife is a full-fledged licensed funeral director and embalmer and among the best.

She’s highly respected by her colleagues and loved by every family she serves. You bounce ideas off one another, but this time, it’s her story to write. You did your time. It’s your time to play Family Guy.

Now, I don’t want to scare you, Noah, so I’m letting it slip that your funeral service story doesn’t fully close at age 45.

It’s just that with a daughter who is six years old, and a son of your own who is three, life is a little hectic. Even more than when you had your first daughter, plus your two stepsons. One of which is a United States Naval cadet and the other nearing his driver’s license. You’re so proud of them.

A family of six, Noah. Your very own little six-pack.

Speaking of six packs, you have managed just fine with sobriety. There were a few rough moments that tested you, but man, your support continued to save you. After almost 45 years of being clean and sober, take a bow, my inner self.

I know you’re worried about trying to raise kids while your wife works, but she did it for nearly 20 years. It’s the least you can do. Your son will be your last name to carry on. You did it, Noah. You brought a son into this world.

You should know that taking the extra time every morning, by waking up early to work out and write, while you could, paid off. It suuuuuuuucked a lot of times, but you trusted the process. You knew what you were doing after all.

Being a self-published writer was cool and all, and you have no regrets with those books, but being a premium death care ghostwriter, with a host of clients has paid off. You had your schedule (for the most part). You saw your family every morning, day, and night. You had time to pursue other interests.

You even taught for the time being. It was mostly online courses, for those wanting to pay a little less than typical tuition, but it was still teaching.

Hey Noah, remember that time you had to pull over with your son and daughter arguing in the back of the minivan, to try and audio record that morning’s lesson? All because you didn’t listen to your wife (for the millionth time) and just recorded it the night prior.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, that life always comes with small challenges, and you finally realized that. You stopped living in fear and regret, and look what happened. You were much happier in the end.

By age 50, you were getting that itch again for funeral service. Your wife was still rocking her career out as one of the best morticians in the state, let alone the area. Her line of cosmetics did well, too. You became the power couple you always talked about.

And, with her turning 40, your passion for each other never left, either. 50 became the new 40 became the new 30. The time you spent tied to the kids early on, slowly turned into more time for yourselves. You dated your wife for 42 years, Noah!

With your wife still by your side, when you turned 50 years old, you really wanted a mid-life change. It was what you always wanted. You and your wife started Watry Family Funeral Home.

You put your name on a sign, you son of a gun. Just like you promised your dead father. Your mother couldn’t be more proud of you, too.

Both your mother and your grandmother saw it come to fruition.

You were able to get your family out of Milwaukee County, Wisconsin, and now reside in a quiet neighborhood, that borders on the country. Just like back home. Wisconsin was always so good to you when you lived it right.

The kids got older. They went on to give you Hell, but being around them was like Heaven. You did your part as a father. You continue to do your part as a stepfather.

For nearly twenty years you and your wife ran Watry Family Funeral Home. You always said that was your number one goal in life.

Speaking of kids getting older; it was only then could you and your wife truly see the world. Ireland. Canada. All 50 states. Australia. England. Cruises. Hot springs. Road trips. Annual trips to your honeymoon spot.

Noah, I don’t know how you did it, but you continued to publish a book a year, just like you said you would 40 years ago. Lo and behold, some even reached the New York Times Bestseller List.

Every year, a new book comes out. And every year, you still feel like something is missing. While it was an ambitious goal to have, releasing something once a year, at the minimum, it has kept you going.

Writing has always been your way to motivate your inner self.

You’ve always said that we as humans, will never accomplish everything we want in life. We will never see every movie we want. We will never read every book we’re interested in. We will never see every sight the world has to offer us.

Damn if you’re going to stop writing now, at age 80.

You lived through a lot, Noah. You never understood why you were put on this Earth, or how you were allowed to continue living over so many others. You have seen friends and family come and go.

Your time will come, too, Noah. But not yet. You are only 80 years old, after all. Shoot, I can’t tell you everything, either!

Maybe you’ll live to be 100. Maybe not. You’ve lived a full life many times over. This is not your end.

You lived to see your kids grow up to be 40. Grandkids, even. You published your books. You started your own funeral home. You saw your wife chase her dreams and cheered her on every step of the way.

You always were her biggest fan, and she of you. You waited half your life for her, and it was worth it. It was extremely tough and a lot of work, but worth it. While being a dad has been your greatest accomplishment, being married will always be your greatest joy.

Take a bow, Noah. You’ve made it 80 years on this Earth. Tried as you might at times, but you never gave up.

This is my (future) letter to you.

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