For me, living means trying to have no regrets along the way. Being honest, treating people kindly, making the best decisions I can for me, for my family. Not lying, not cheating.

I’ve talked to others about their regrets. All were along these lines: Didn’t take such and such job. Didn’t go here or there. Regretted sleeping with him or her. Didn’t make my mark on the world. Lots of regrets.

And if *you* died tomorrow?

For me there are only two….

That I should have spent more time with my grandfather. The one who lost the fingers on his right hand when I was 7 and never, ever wore his fake hand because it scared the heck out of me. I told him it felt bad (I’ve always been a tactile person) and that it just wasn’t him. I remember him very proudly (and after much practice), showing me…