If this were the last day…

My mother is a spry and alert 94. “Going on 95,” she reminds us. Mom is starting to say things like, “I don’t want anyone spending a lot of money to get to me or anything after I’m gone. As long as they know I love them it’s not necessary,” or “life is too short to mess around with the incidentals.” When I ask what the incidentals are to her, she responds, “anything you can’t take with you.”

The conversation left me pondering, yet again, what I consider important. The irrefutable presupposition of this existence is none of us know our future with any degree of certainty.

If I understood I had a finite amount of time left, what would I consider the inconsequentials of life?

Flip the question over and what are the important things  to spend my last moments doing – or being?

What will I take with me if I’m run over by a bus tomorrow – or today?

Who are the most important people in my life? What do we need to express to each other?

What do I need to resolve to live in peace?

In gratitude for another day of living. Thank you, Mom, for the opportunity.