Getting ready to turn off the lights and go to sleep last week, I received a text saying one of my high school friends had unexpectedly died. In the last 18 months, I have had three close friends from high school pass away. I know this is not a great a way to begin a column, but it appears none of us are going to get out of life alive.

At his funeral this past weekend in Houston, the family placed photo albums and his football scrap book on a table for friends to flip through. A slide show of his life scrolled across a large screen hanging behind the pulpit.

I was in many of the photos, as were several of my other “buddies” who were there in attendance. We laughed at our full heads of hair, lean physiques, choice of clothing, and discussed all the reasons why we did not win a single football game our senior year.

We thought we looked cool then – and we did – just not today. But the cars we drove and the music we listened to; kids today can only hope for quality like that.

Reminiscing about the old times eventually lost steam and the discussions shifted to grandkids, health, and plans to get together again. Without question, we all were wiser and simpler in our approach to life.

We didn’t ask about each other’s bank accounts or whether or not any of us had a second home in the mountains. None of that mattered. All were grateful, even on that sad occasion, to be there with old friends.

The simplicity of life was becoming realized in us all.

Living life was evident by the wrinkles on our faces and the groans we made getting out of a chair. But at one time, the Spring Woods High School Fighting Tigers class of 1982 was going to change the world.

And in many ways, we have.

Gathering for a photo, I saw a group of grey-haired men who I knew when they were young and had the years of life in their favor. A group of men, me included, who are now riding off into the sunset of life, because high noon passed by several years ago.

You look in the mirror one day and you see your dad staring back at you. Then you quickly realize that it’s not your dad, you just look old like he did.

Shaking hands and hugging goodbyes to each other, one of the guys yelled out, “Hey, don’t forget, some of the best days of your life are yet to come!”

Another guy yelled back, “Go Tigers!”

We all laughed, and then headed our separate ways.

“Like a morning dream, life becomes more and more bright the longer we live, and the reason for everything appears more clear. What has puzzled us before seems less mysterious, and crooked paths look straighter, as we approach the end.”

– Richter

The older I get, the clearer things become. I plan to live a bit more foolishly, with grey-haired wisdom as my guide. I have yet to experience some of the best days of my life.

I like the sound of that.

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Todd Howey is a columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose articles appear on Fridays. Email comments to thowey63@gmail.com.