on life, and death... my new years resolution

Since my dad's illness and ultimate passing, I've thought a lot about death. Actually, obsessed about it. Read books about the dying. The process. The emotions. On grieving. Is it lonely? Scary? Painful?

Though having witnessed my father's last breath and how seemingly peaceful he seemed, knowing that he had come to peace with his mortality, dying scares me. Period. But, strangely, wanting to die myself for only a little while to understand where he went. Did he just fade to black and that was that? Are there angels and a big pearly gate? Was he lonely or scared or in pain?

I posted earlier in the week about my 92 year old grandmother, who still lay unconscious in hospice care. Her husband has relentlessly sat by her side, my mother and aunt have joined her after some treacherous travel from the opposite ends of the country. They are there holding her hand, laughing and crying. Being together. Saying goodbye to their mom.

And I realize how short (and in cases like my grandmother, long) life is. In a moment, life can be coming to an end. As cliche as it is, I am reminded to live each day like it's my last. To say I love you at nauseam. Squeeze my babies as much as possible, even when they are driving me crazy. To live each day as if it is our last. And stop being fearful about the end because it is inevitable.

This is my New Years resolution.