I was with friends the other night and the topic of being busy and finding balance came up. This is on my mind constantly. Constantly, as in just about every waking moment. The older I get, this obsession gets worse.
It's been almost a year since the mother of my hubby's children died. I was there in her last hours and it has had a profound effect on me. No one wants to experience what we saw in those last hours. We struggle coming into this world and dying should be easier but sometimes it just isn't. I called her my friend and we had an understanding that the grandchildren we shared were the most important part of our friendship and it was an honor to know someone like her. A rare gem. I'll be thinking of her while we share some birthday celebrations over the weekend. I promised her I would be there for them always. It's a promise easy to keep.
How much time we get here is sometimes out of our hands. I often think about how much time I wasted when I was younger and that I have less time ahead of me than behind me. I have become obsessed with making all my waking moments matter in honor of those who are no longer here. How can I complain about anything?
That's all.
love, susan
Much food for thought here, Susan. I've also noticed that the older I get the more I seem to focus on assessing whether any one activity is truly—really and truly—worth not just my time but my energy and emotional involvement. I don't think we're alone; perhaps this comes naturally with age, something hormonal, something chemical. Or maybe it's a product of a certain emotional maturity; a way to get closer to finding meaning and purpose in our lives before we die.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post. Beautiful. Hope you're having a wonderful weekend, full of meaning :)
Guilie @ Life In Dogs