It is a very humbling thing to realize that some day the world will go on without you. As some of you may have read in my last post (or heard on Facebook), my sister-in-law was killed in a car accident on Mother's Day. This past week has been rough. I've offered comfort as best I could, and when I was alone I cried until my face was swollen.
It is so strange ... she should still be here. I was at the funeral. I saw the mangled wreckage of what was left of her car and yet I feel as if she is still here.
Expressions like, "Life is short," don't really mean anything. I've realized that even if you live to 100, life is still short. There are always words left unspoken, projects left unfinished. All you can do is do your very best with the time you have. We will never know how much time that is.
Rita would smack me if she knew I was moping around in my pajamas. She would want me to get back to work on the book I was writing when all this happened. So, that's what I'm going to do. It's difficult being a fighter at heart and having an enemy you can't fight, like grief, or death. Technically, you can fight death, but you can only hold him off for so long.
It seems a bit obscene to go on with life when something so precious has been stolen. However, I believe that because life is so fleeting, that is what makes it so precious. If we lived forever, would the moments spent with loved ones mean as much?
I don't want to miss out on a single opportunity to create a wonderful memory. Some day when I'm old, those memories may be all I have to keep me company. Or perhaps, they will give comfort to someone else.
I'm more determined than ever to live my life to the fullest. I will accomplish my goals. I will get off my ass and get back to my workout schedule. I will write this book. I will spend time with those I love, and I will do it in her honor.
The pain will fade, Rita, but your memory will not. I will keep your smile in my heart, locked away like the treasure it is.