Days are long, life is short

A stunning stretch of weather is just enough to put the kibosh on considering mortality. Beautiful spring mornings, with sun so bright and a sky so clear it hurts to look up. My city, my home, in the throbbing push of everything that is springtime-birth, renewal; it's life and and its unceasing urgency to grow, push up and out.

And yet.

We gathered last night to comfort and mourn the loss of a dear, dear friend's mother, and to watch the shadows fall across the face of another dear, dear friend who knows she's next, knows that far too soon, many of the same friends will gather around her to comfort, support, remember.

I came home from a long, wine-and-sun filled afternoon in the presence of my own parents and can only wonder: How long? How much longer do I get? And why? I don't deserve this anymore than L or D deserved to lose their own mothers in the peak of all their lives.

One mother lived to see her son happy, loved, and content in the prime of his life. One mother lives to see her daughter also happy, loved, and content in the prime of her life.

And yet.

It's just never enough, is it?

It's never long enough.

It's never enough time.

We are only greedy for life in the face of death.