I traveled to Iowa to visit my grandparents who are in their late 80s and starting to have a few problems. I wanted to spend time with them as you never know what might happen or when they might go. I wanted to see them while I still could. But the universe gave me a punch out of left field.
In a cafe in Austin, my mom told me she had been diagnosed with a rare very deadly form of cancer: primary peritoneal cancer. Everyone who has been diagnosed with it has died from it. Average lifespan after diagnosis is 2 years - maybe 5, 10 at the max.
The heaviness of this has been sinking in the past couple days. All this mental preparation to say goodbye to my grandparents, to see them, tell them things, hear things from them, spend time with them, my possible last goodbye - I am re-adjusting to my mom. The good thing, is that I feel very good about my relationship with her. There is nothing unsaid, nothing I am concerned about. But damn, I thought there would be more time.
I have seen death, so I'm not afraid - for myself or her or anyone.
But thinking about the end, is making me think about certain things differently. I often consider my own death, and what I want to be doing when it visits its final kiss. If I died today, sure there are a lot of things I will miss out on doing, being and accomplishing - but I've had a good life, I've done everything I've wanted to up to now. But moving beyond today - priorities shift.