Aging, Loss, and the Impermanence of Life
I'm running a bit late, a couple days actually, and to be honest, a part of me didn't even feel like writing this post. I've been working for hours, and exhaustion has taken its toll.
This morning, my mom reminisced about how my dad used to get all decked out in his Aggie gear, eagerly waiting for the homecoming parade. She wanted to see a picture from the last homecoming he attended before his health took a downturn. It's on days like this that the memories of our departed loved ones come flooding back, and the grief becomes all too real.
Losing a parent and witnessing the gradual aging of another changes your perspective on life in profound ways. It's a stark reminder that death is an inevitable part of the human experience, and no one lives forever.
Throughout the years, my dad faced several health scares, and I was always the one by his side, spending days in the hospital. Somehow, he always managed to pull through, like a cat with nine lives. I even jokingly called him a horse once when he defied the odds after a particularly dire situation. But on his last hospital visit, he didn't return home, and it was a stark realization that even the strongest among us have a finite timeline.
Witnessing my dad's passing and seeing my mom age has given me a newfound perspective on life and how we should live it. It's a reminder that we will all grow old, and we will all eventually pass away. So, it's crucial to make the most of our time, to live life to the fullest, and to do it with purpose and meaning.
As I embark on the second half of my life journey, I'm determined to make it count. I want to enrich it with love, more family interactions, and unforgettable experiences. I want to break free from the relentless grind of work and seize moments, fully immersing myself in the present.
Life is fleeting, and as I've come to understand, it's not about how long we live, but how well we live. I want to leave a legacy of cherished memories and cherished moments. Because someday, like my parents, I'll grow old, and eventually, my children might have to take care of me. There will be limitations my aging body may impose, and eventually, the final chapter will come.
In the meantime, I choose to embrace life with open arms, to treasure every moment, and to be present in the here and now. Life is a gift, and I intend to unwrap it with gratitude and enthusiasm, making every day count.
