There’s a legend than when a Roman general came home from war, he was greeted with a grand parade through the city.

But as he basked in the adulation of the crowd, a slave sat just behind him, whispering in his ear.

“Memento mori.”

“Remember that you are mortal.”

Cheery little thought, right?

“Don’t get too big of a head, hero. You’re worm food in waiting, just like the rest of us.”

Not many of us get to come home to a big parade in our honor, but we get those little memento mori reminders every once in a while, don’t we?

I’ve had three since February.

That’s when my 45-year-old cousin had a heart attack.

Yeah, 45. That’s not much older than I am.

And we’ve all driven by auto accidents not long after they happened, haven’t we? This is the one I saw.

Then my neighbor had an attack about two weeks ago.

He’s close to my age as well; his kids aren’t much older than mine.

They’re both recovering, but jeesh.

So what runs through your head when you get those little wakeup calls?

Does your life flash before your eyes? Or do you see the future lives of the ones who depend on you? How would they live without you?

We know it’s going to happen, but we don’t get to choose how or when we die.

We do choose what happens to our families afterward.

Will they have time to grieve us? Or will they have to grieve while also worrying about the house payment, saving for college and other bills?

My insurance agency offers a whole lot of things you never want to have to use, but there’s one I guarantee you’re going to need

Memento mori.