By becoming deeply aware of our mortality, we intensify our experience of every aspect of life– Robert Greene
Two weeks ago my husband’s oldest friend lost his mother. To understand this particular friend and by extension, friendship circle, you must imagine the most loving and loyal people in your own life. Then and only then can you understand and empathize with the closeness and camaraderie of this circle. The realness and kindness within this friendship group has taken my breath away on more than one occasion, and I continue to be thankful I inherited such a loving and loyal bunch via marriage. They’re our people for problems, celebrations, ordinary occasions, and soul shaking experiences. Therefore, the loss of a parent is a call to gather and support while wading into the deep waters of grief with one another.
Death does something to us that is painfully beautiful, which is allow us the opportunity to gratefully acknowledge the brevity of breath. It also calls upon us to examine the path we’re on and the maps we’re following. In short, are we living the life we desire?
I’ve spent the past several days reminding myself that tomorrow is not promised. It’s an incredibly challenging concept to accept and adapt to, especially because so much of life is centered upon the surface but necessary hustle and bustle business. So, how should we live? I’m not an expert in this arena, but I’m going with the gut response here, which is fiercely and lovingly. Essentially, I’m embracing Erma Bombeck’s stance with these words, “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left but could say I’ve used everything you gave me.”
Here’s to giving the world everything we’ve got in us. Oh and Enid, thanks for the gift that is your son. We’ll take good care of him.
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