Death.
And mortality.
It's been on my mind a lot lately.
My mother passed away from esophageal cancer almost 8 years ago. My father and I miss her every day, but the experience has made us closer than ever. We live together, and not a day goes by where we don't hug each other and say "I love you." But he'll be 75 later is year, and things are getting harder for him and I'm dreading the day when I'll lose him too.
But the poor guy is still spending half his time helping out his mother, my grandmother, who is 94. A woman who, up till last week, was still living by herself in her own home. That is until she cracked her heel, and is now currently in a nursing home until she can walk on her own again. If she can ever again. But she doesn't want to be there and wants to die in her own home - which is a notion I respect. My own mother passed away on our couch at home while I held her hand. She was going to go and there was not a damn thing any one of us could do about it. But at least she was in her own home with loved ones.
A lot of this has been on my mind as I turned 40 this year. The day before my birthday, I started taking medication to stave off glaucoma. I thought to myself, "This is the start of my decline. Things will only ever get worse, there is no way my health or well being will ever incline now."
Laying in bed, you ponder these things and start to ask yourself what in your life has ever been worthwhile or what is the point to it all.... if at the end you will ever see your loved ones again or if you will simply be met with oblivion.
Don't have any answers or know what to do. I just tell my dad I love him every morning and every night, and try to trudge through the day in between.
