I want to live each day as if it were my last

But not in the way you’d expect

Every time I say goodbye to my Grandma, she hugs me as if it’s the last time she’ll ever see me.

As I wrapped my arms around her this morning, I could hear her whimper. “I love you, honey,” she whispered. I held back my own tears, as I wondered too if it would be our final farewell. “I love you more, Grandma.”

It breaks my heart each time, knowing that she wonders if every goodbye will be her last.

Knowing that she’s had to ask herself this question for years now.

And knowing, how in spite of every year that passes and proves her wrong, she still says goodbye with all the love and gratitude she can muster. As if, for the first time, she’s realized it might be the last.

I’ve seen a fair amount of death in my life.

Not as much as many others, I know. But enough that I’ve asked myself the proverbial question,

“Am I living each day like it were my last?”

The expression lost some clout for me in my late 20s. Once I started setting boundaries and saying “no,” my “live each day like it was my last” attitude felt less like a brave and adventurous lifestyle and more like a fuck-it-all mindset that led to burnout and…