My grandmother is 89, and she has recently started the downslide into the end of this life.
Our family isn’t ready for this, they have not prepared.
When did we think it was going to be the right time?
A colleague’s grandmother is 76, she is facing a serious, although probably not life threatening, disease.
She and her family are distraught.
When did they think it was going to be the right time?
Our patients, young, old, middle aged, face illness that is marching inexorably to finality.
Which one of them is on the right time?
It seems to be all too human to deny the finiteness of our lives and to decry, no matter what the age, the end.
There is no right time to die.
We cannot predict or foresee it.
We cannot control it.
We don’t even understand it, but it is inevitable.
It is a force that ultimately will demarcate our life,
but it is not the force that controls it.
There is a right time to live.
We can predict it, it is now.
We can foresee it, it is our dreams.
We can control it, minute by minute it is ours, and ours alone to live,
and we must understand it, for when we finally do, perhaps we will also understand our death.
So, when mortality stares you in the face, with or without serious illness, live.