I'm sure you've all heard the cliches before. Heard the quotes, the sayings, or at the very least had someone at some point in your life tell you to stop and think about it -- about what you would do if you suddenly found out you only had 24 hours left to live.

I know I have.

Of course, in the end we all ignore them. We brush them aside, never really stopping to think about what they're really trying to tell us. We refuse to believe that it's even a possibility. Why? Because it can't happen right? Or at least it won't happen. Not to us anyway... or anyone we know.

I'm sure that's how our brains are wired to think - that death not only is not probable, but that it's pretty much impossible. And so we ignore those cliches and those quotes and those individuals who warn us that we should live every single day as if it could possibly be our last 24 hours on Earth.

Well I can tell you now that it's not impossible... and that it CAN happen to you.

I found that out the hard way this morning when I arrived here outside the pearly gates of Heaven and met St. Peter for the first time. Oh yeah - it's no rumor, he's real and he's here (pretty decent guy too) and so are the gates in all of their pearliness. I'm not sure what's with the gates exactly -- maybe they're trying to cut back on unwanted guests or attempted break-ins? But neverless they're tall and pearly and they certainly make a statement.

Anyway though... back to this whole 24 hours to live thing... I didn't get that notice in the mail. Kinda wish I had. I was completely oblivious and totally uniformed up until the very moment it happened. And honestly, I'm still not exactly sure just how it did happen. I'd like to know, sure... but they keep pretty tight-lipped about that stuff up here. Seems there's a "need to know" policy in Heaven, and well, I guess they don't figure I really "need to know." St. Peter did ask me if I thought knowing would really make a difference now. Okay, so maybe he has a point. I just hope whatever it was, I went out in a blaze of glory. Maybe saving some poor soul's life ya know, doing something halfway heroic.

I've been standing here in line now, waiting to get in all morning. That's right - I haven't even seen the fun part of Heaven yet. I guess I can at least be grateful that I know that's where I'm headed! I'm assuming it's pretty nice though. From out here it sounds like there's a pretty rowdy party going on.

The line was really long this morning when I arrived, but it's gotten a lot shorter since then... at least for me. I just turned around and looked behind me, the line back there... WHOA! I never realized just how many people die each day until I stood in this line. It's definitely worse than the DMV, and that's saying a lot. Of course the people here (is that even what we are now? People?) I'm not exactly sure what we're called up here, but regardless, they seem friendlier here than at the DMV and at least I know I don't have to do this once a year.

I can't be certain, but I have a good feeling that part of this whole 'waiting in line' experience has to do with giving us a good chance to think about our lives. I mean, I know that's what I've been doing all morning. I've thought a lot about my life and especially those last 24 hours. Like how I would have lived them differently had I known the were my last.

For starters, I probably would have gotten out of bed a lot earlier. Maybe watched the sunrise from the dock in my backyard or something. I probably lost a good 4 or 5 hours of quality living time just from sleeping in. But then again, I can't help but smile when I think that I got to sleep in on my last day. I sure did love to sleep! They'll probably even etch that on my grave. Like - "Here lies Nick, he loved to sleep."

And then there was breakfast. I could and probably should have taken my mom up on her offer to come over and fix me breakfast instead of going to McDonald's with AJ, AGAIN. I would have eaten bacon and eggs and her homemade french toast. But instead I had a greasy sausage biscuit washed down with a half flattened Coke. But I smile thinking about how delicious that greasy biscuit was and how if I'd stay home to have breakfast with my mom I would have missed out on sharing my very last McDonald's breakfast ever with one of my very best friends. And for him at least, that will hopefully serve as an awesome memory.

I played golf with Brian and Howie yesterday afternoon. That was a lot of fun. I mean, if I'd known I was gonna die I probably would have spent the entire day calling up my family and friends and worrying about trying to get hold of every single person I knew and cared about and stressing over last minute details. Instead I got to relax on the greens with my favorite people in the world and laugh my ass off when Howie hit his fourth ball in a row into the lake.

We talked about the album while we golfed. You know I was really looking forward to the upcoming release and kicking off the tour. The songs are finished, the album's complete, I hope they go ahead and release it, even without me. I'd hate to ruin that for them. The could even go on tour... though I'd understand if they didn't... I wish I could be there with them.

I guess that's something I would change if I could. I wish I could have warned them in someway, so that they'd know I want them to go on without me.

I wish I could have said good bye...

But then again, maybe it's better this way.

I spent my last 24 hours with the people I loved. I ended my final night with a spectacular Backstreet upcoming album party for our crew and tour members and then I went home to a house I loved and watched the sun set over the ocean with my puppy curled up at my feet. It was pretty spectacular.

I wonder what sunsets look like here in Heaven? I bet they're even more amazing than on Earth.

Well... the line has gotten even shorter now. I'll be going in soon. To tell you the truth, I can't wait! I'd always imagined dying would be scary. I thought that I would be sad or upset about leaving the world and everything and everyone I loved behind... but I'm not. I mean, I'll miss them... there's no doubt about that, but I feel like this is what I've waited my whole life for and I've got to be totally honest when I tell you that it feels absolutely amazing. I'm not scared. I'm not sad. I'm just... I'm at peace.

I can't wait until it's my turn to pass through those pearly gates, and they're getting closer now every minute. There are two people in front of me now. I've been standing with them all day. A 98-year-old man and a 45-year-old woman. We're pretty excited.

I still wonder what happened to me... how I died. Maybe that's a feeling that passes eventually.

One more to go. I can hear the party getting louder each second.

I don't know how Heaven works, but I hope they let me check in on my friends and family every now and then.

I'm walking up to the gates now...

Looking back I don't really think I would have changed a think about the last day of my life. Instead of spending those hours dying, which I feel I would have done had I known, I spent them LIVING.

I think I see what St. Peter means now, "would it really make a difference if you knew?"

Maybe it would... and maybe that difference wouldn't be so great.

Well everyone, I guess this is it...

I'll see you on the other side.