I went to a funeral the other day where the percentage of grey-haired mourners was nowhere near high enough.

The low number was an awful reminder that we were saying goodbye to someone too young, someone lost unexpectedly and way before his time.

It’s impossible to make sense of any of it, the unfairness and loss of it all, but in trying to do so, a rather incredible poem called The Dash by Linda Ellis was read.

It starts:

I read of a man who stood to speak,
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone,
from the beginning… to the end.
He noted that first came the date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
know what that little line is worth.

The words flow on.

You might like to find some time between the business and busyness of Christmas to sit with Ellis’s verse; it’s the beautiful simplicity of that line, that dash, that has stayed with me.

Perhaps it’s increasing reflection brought by my age, by children living through some big milestones, or the focus on family and friends as we near the end of another year, but I find myself marvelling at and mourning the amount of time I have spent concentrating on things other than what that line should be made up of, what that line should represent to me, what’s really important in life.

I can’t help but feel that it’s harder for us to stay focused on that imperative these days, with so much noise it’s harder for us to define and then stick to the priority.

There’s no doubt life was tougher for my grandparents and great-grandparents, but there was a simplicity driven by need first and wants much, much later.

I sometimes wish they were still alive so I could ask them if they ever spent time worrying about the little things, or if their perspective had to be solely focused on the day-to-day: getting to work and back, putting food on the table, repairing what they had rather than buying more and more.

While the current cost of living crisis has forced a return to some sense of what they experienced, in truth, in this country the majority of us have lived through an age of affluence. I wonder if that has led some of us to take our eyes off the dash.

In 2023, I’ve also spent too much time letting other people’s opinions affect how I feel.

The irony is that we’ve never had a greater opportunity to focus on what’s really important in life.

More than any other time in history, we now have the means to live whatever version of life we deem most fulfilling, and we also can help those who might not.

We have the science, focus groups, books, podcasts… an inundation of experts telling us how to live our best lives.

We have unfettered access to information from around the world, so we can see, touch and feel what others in less fortunate circumstances are going through.

And yet, rather than surfing this wave of information to a place of greater happiness, we often can find ourselves drowning in the tsunami of comparison.

Sure, some of that is from a sense of helplessness, of not being able to make an immediate impact or meaningful change, but I also think if we’re honest, it’s largely down to self-interest.

I can’t think of a greater (and horrendously mortifying example), than me being distraught at what’s unfolding in Gaza whilst also still spending a gross amount of time worrying about what other people think about the size of my arse.

In 2023, I’ve also spent too much time letting other people’s opinions affect how I feel.

I’ve spent too much time being drawn into pettiness and, yes, I have no doubt bought things I didn’t need.

So in the end, what do I want my dash to represent?

None of that.

Not even close.

I want my dash to mean that the three people I helped bring into the world see it through eyes of kindness, respect, joy and service.

I hope I will have done more for others than for myself and, at the end of the day, I hope we’ve all laughed way more than we’ve cried.

When you stop and write it down like that, all of a sudden it looks very simple.

I hope you have time to take a breath over the coming festive season and do what it is that makes – and will continue to make – your dash so very important, not just to you, but to those who love you the most.

Have a safe and joyful festive season and I’ll be back with you in 2024.

Ali Clarke presents the breakfast show on Mix 102.3. She is a regular columnist for InDaily.