Because we believe my Dad's time in his current form to be more limited than we used to believe, it seems like there is more regret to be had, more preciousness to the moments, words and decisions we make.
Yet this moment and all others are but a moment. As we proceed through time each moment simply is. Past and future are illusions.
People telling us our futures are short causes us to fear. What we fear is simply a grasping to our bodies in this form and a departure from the reality we continually fabricated.
But ultimately there is but one reality of our indistiguishableness from infinity because we have always been and will always be as critical of a component of the Universe as our Sun or Moon.
We cling to our current arrangement of atoms rather than excitedly awaiting new form or forms.
If you aren't clinging to life, that last breath must be like the deepest falling dream. Just as magical as birth.
I feel like somehow in crisis, death, and intense moments of life we can be truly alive and present. The minutia falls away. It's like we finally realize the preciousness of this moment when we realize that it could be our last. Seeing the last grain of sand in a timer as large as a mountain.
But that's always true.
A doctor tells you that you have six months ot live and then he could die on his way home. So who really should see a moment as precious?
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