I'd like to think that I take nothing for granted, that I'm always present and appreciative and live life to the fullest. None of this is true, of course. I get caught up in what I'm doing or the exact opposite, caught up on my screens, oblivious to what I or anyone around me is doing. Either way, I get sucked into the vortex.

One thing I can say with certainty is I have held myself to one standard: when my kid asks for my attention, I give it to them, and when they ask me to do something with them -- anything with them -- I do it.

Today is a holiday, President's Day, so my kids were not in school, but my wife and I worked. After dinner I did what I usually do while my kids are noodling around the house: I worked. I think I was editing a Snowflake query when I heard those magical words, "Dad, will you play chess with me?"

I did the right thing. I closed my MacBook and walked to the kitchen table where I keep a chessboard for this exact reason. While I played chess with my 8-year-old, my 10-year-old was practicing "Let It Be" on the piano. She was playing on the Yamaha Clavinova that I bought to replace the Baldwin piano that I inherited from my grandpa. Chess and piano. These are not the pieces of the puzzle that my wife brought to the picture. These are both mine, two hobbies that my kids adopted and seem to really enjoy.

For the rest of their lives, they'll know how to play chess. They'll appreciate the game. And at least one of my kids will know how to find middle C and play an A minor chord on piano.

I did that, and it took work. It took leading by example and showing interest when they showed interest.

I'm thinking about this tonight because yesterday my wife learned that her good friend was going through something awful. Her husband is on life support, perhaps from a heart attack, but we don't know. He's been in a coma for a week. They have two kids and a third child is due in five months. He may not make it. It's a tragedy on every dimension. I can't think of anything positive about this.

I can't help but think, "What if it was me?" What would I regret? What would my kids remember?

Most of us hope to die surrounded by family. I still read the obituaries and most of the time that's what they say. There must be a reason for it. Family is in our DNA, ever present in our thoughts, a safe place in our souls.

Our friend's husband might die surrounded by family. He may not know it. He also might break the coma and live another healthy fifty years.

Time will tell, but in the meantime, I take this moment to appreciate what I've done well and what I'll still improve. Take it day by day, try to be present, and appreciate everything I love.