At the end of Death Be Not Proud, John Gunther’s memoir about his son’s life, Gunther’s wife, Frances, writes, “Johnny lay dying of a brain tumor for fifteen months. He was in his seventeenth year. I never kissed him goodnight without wondering whether I should see him alive in the morning. I greeted him each morning as though he were newly born to me, a re-gift of God. Each day he lived was a blessed day of grace.”
Hopefully, thankfully, most of us will not have to go through what that family did. But we can and we must try to practice what they practiced. Because you never know. Wouldn’t it be better to see each day this way, that each day with them is a gift, a lucky break, a midnight reprieve, as opposed to a chore? Act tonight as if it were your last time together. Soak it in. Appreciate it. Be everything they need. And then in the morning, arise and be surprised, grateful, blessed, by the grace of another try. Then live accordingly.