When my dad was moved to hospice I was terrified.
On that day, I had the nerve to suggest to my mom that we see him to hospice then go home and come back the next day.
She had the foresight to see that it was the end and we needed to stay where we were.
She didn’t say that but that’s what happened.
In the end, his money didn’t mean a thing.
In the end, the only thing that mattered was who was in the room to take his hand.
I was there to take his hand. His wife of 50 years was there to take his hand.
It shows me what’s actually important.
Who will hold your hand?
Who will hold my hand?
What does death entail?
Is it your brain firing on all cylinders?
Showing you all that you’ve been through and reconciling that?
Is it your soul remembering?
We won’t know until the end.
I do know in the end, it will be specific.
It will come down to the people that love you. The people that you love.
Live every day like it’s your last.
Live every day in appreciation.
I hope someone will hold my hand.
I hope someone will hold your hand….