My graduation present from high school was a pair of beats. They were Beats Studio 3s, and they were a beautiful light gold, crème-ish color. I wore them practically everyday, from going to the gym to doing homework: they were always in use. 

About 5 years later the beats were starting to wear out. The ear pads started to tear a bit, so I bought replacement ones and carefully tore off the old ones and added the brand new pads.

I loved the beats so much, plus they didn’t sell them in that color anymore. So this item felt somewhat precious to me, they were my favorite headphones.

I loved how you could take them off and have them loop around your neck, and I loved how soft they felt over my ears. I was happy that I was able to repair it enough to keep it’s life going as long as I could.

A couple months later, the adjustment on the right side broke, so sometimes the adjustable part would slide, extending the length of the headphones. It sucked to see it wearing out so fast, but I found a work around that when I had them over my ears they wouldn’t slide down. I was happy that they could still be in use.

Nearly 6 years since I had gotten them, and they still looked rather clean and new. One day, I felt a crack, and although nothing was physically present, I knew that it’s life was ending rather soon.

That same week, when I was taking the headphones off my head, they snapped. 

I thought I would’ve been upset to see something I cherished so much become no more.

But, I laughed.

I laughed because I felt like I got every drop of life out of these headphones that I enjoyed so much. I laughed because I had an amazing 6 years with them, and I was glad I wore them all the time. I had no regrets, just happy at how buying those headphones turned out for me all these years.

It then hit me. This is how we should strive to feel at our deathbeds. 

I want to feel this way about my death.

When I know it’s my time, I want to laugh with joy and be happy at the fact that I was satisfied with my life. That I got every drop out of it that I could’ve. That I didn’t have any regrets.