The Time We Have

This past week, we said goodbye to my 96-year-old stepfather.

He lived a good life— outliving his first wife, his brother, my mother, his son, and most of his friends.
Toward the end, he often asked, "Why am I still here, when they're not?"
There’s the medical answer— his pacemaker.
But beyond that, it's a mystery.

May his memory be a blessing. I will miss him deeply.

His death brings the questions we all eventually face:
How long do we have?
How long to love fully, to say what we need to say, to set right what remains unresolved?

There’s no guaranteed time. Only this moment. Only today.

I recently shared this poem with someone facing the end of life. Maybe it will meet you wherever you are, too: