Lately there’s so much devastated news I don’t even know where to begin. The worst was today, when the new of the big C diagnosed to one of my loved one’s family. It just hit way too close to home. And it got me thinking about death itself.
I’ve read ‘when breath becomes air’, ‘being mortal’ and lately ‘the bright hour’. I don’t know why, and I can’t explain why I’m drawn to reading morbid books about life & death. They weren’t easy read for sure, but I find the rawness, real, thought-provoking, inspiration and strength are a comfort to my inner self to grapple with my own mortality.
Maybe I just needed to know there’s more to life than sweating over spilled milk (from my kids)?
Maybe I just needed it to remind myself how lucky I am to be experiencing all the little mundane things that we take for granted?
Or Maybe, just maybe I would like to prepare for it if it ever… ?(I was too young to understand when death took my dad away when I was 4)
What I’ve realized is, as life experience & relationship builds up, the reality of our own (& our loved one) vulnerability & fragility as human beings can set it, and it’s pretty scary, as death (and road to death) is unknown.
Today when I got home, I gave my kids the tightest hugs. Afraid to let go… because this moment, this very moment is so precious that it breaks my heart. Here I am sitting down, writing this, hugging and sniffing my daughter’s mini bolster that she’d left out on the sofa. I vowed to myself, from this moment, I will soak up this life of mine, the good moment and the bad moment, because life is just too fragile to be wasted.