Being in touch with my mortality has given me a new appreciation for life. I am grateful.
I appreciate every morning when my eyes struggle to open as I shake away the cobwebs of a dream-like state. I am grateful for the beauty of a clear blue sky on a sunny day. I appreciate the chocolate darkness of a moon-lit evening. I appreciate the ocean blue with its overpowering vastness and abundance of life—life that gives life, a world within a world.
I often ride to work bathed in the early morning sunlight and refuse to put on my sunglasses. I just drive and admire the sun’s rays bouncing off whatever they hit. I look out across the horizon and am awed by an overpowering sensation of momentary peace.
I am grateful for the love and support of my family, whose love inspires me to press on through life’s many challenging tests. That in choosing between pain and pleasure, I strive for sagacity with an eye toward the consequences for my opposite, my likeness, and me. All lessons learned late in life; a search for balance that endures in perpetuity.
My father had a small statue of a clay Mexican sun hanging on the wall of his living room. He told me it was his favorite thing because it represented life and freedom. I asked my mom if I could have it. It now hangs in my bedroom and I acknowledge it every day; it represents life, freedom and my father.
We can’t emotionally prepare for the death of a loved one, but we can certainly live our lives so that the emotional impact of losing a loved one is somewhat tranquilized by the absence of regret.
There are no tomorrows.
