on life, on death

Today I heard that the daughter of a friend-of-a-friend died. The little girl was a mere five years of age . . . a wisp of life just beginning. And yet, as with any life, her days were numbered, and that was indeed her full life. It was sudden. And it is nearly impossible for my human heart to grasp. My own little boy is four, so close to her five years. I ache deeply whenever I look at him today; knowing that each day is a gift, a treasure, a blessing, a wonder. I need to remember that. I want to cherish both of my children daily, savor each kiss and hug and smile. It is sobering to know that each day could indeed be the last. For any of us.

This time reminds me of when my son was a month old. A very dear friend had been pregnant along with me, due only a month later, and her son was born far too early. He survived until his due date, three and a half months. Holding my own son at a month old was heart wrenching during that time. My friend’s son had never even come home from NICU. And my own daughter's entry into this world was precarious to say the least.

How precious, how fragile, life truly is.