Echo, I thought about your post much of last night and woke up thinking about this part.
I have a friend whose mother has spinal cancer. When I was grieving the loss of my mother, this woman told me, "I will die when my mother dies." And now she is facing that eventuality. A physician, competent, strong--she faces herself now; her own mortality as much as her mother's. Really, it is that, I think.
I told her about a post I wrote a few days before to a mother, giving up hope. I wrote that mother: what's hope? A fantasy about a future that may or may not exist. (I liked the idea; nobody else much did.) What we have is now. All of the joy we can choose to cram into each minute we have left. And only this minute and the next, we can really depend upon.
And that is the meaning of your post, to me. You are embracing your minutes. Joyous hours. What could be better than that?
There is nothing more.
