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Once we got through the week, the month, the school year, the holidays, the nonsense, the stress, we’d find time to do the things we longed to do. But then we never did. Life, it turned out, could wait.
“You know, it’s okay to be happy and to still have things about your life that you want to change.”
“Well, when we’re young, we live more authentically. But as we get older and become closer to our deaths, our perception changes. We live in a more fearful state.”
“Just because you have a good life doesn’t mean you can’t still long to change some parts of it.” She squeezed my hand. “You can still want some things you never got for yourself.”
“I want to get out of my own way and finally learn to live my fucking life again.”
In its place, I was slowly beginning to find my life.
“I just never knew that I could be this happy. That life could actually feel like this.”
“Just promise me that if I ever get old and boring—that if I ever get off track from this path—you’ll help me find my way back.”
every woman’s dying wish was to simply spend her final days—however many of them she had left—being able to exist in the simple quietness of her life. To have more time to enjoy and appreciate the beauty in that.
Despite the perfect facades we’d all created, maybe we all had shadows. Secret longings. Dreams present in our minds, even when we couldn’t see them.
no matter who you are or what you do or how you live, your time—just like mine—is ultimately running out.
that we aren’t born with one life, but with two. The life we live before we understand loss, and the one we finally live once we realize that, despite our many efforts, our life will ultimately end.
Sometimes, you just have to sit quietly with your grief and give it room to breathe. You have to acknowledge that it is a part of you, and that it probably always will be.
There is no such thing as a perfect life. There are only perfect moments.
