Everything along my life’s timeline has taken on a new meaning. I have an entirely new, albeit somewhat depressing, perspective on my past, present, and future.
Before my life turned upside down, I was living in the present. I can honestly say I tried to live every day to its fullest potential. That doesn’t mean I was jumping out of airplanes every chance I got, or attempting daredevil stunts, or doing anything and everything I could possibly do for tomorrow may never come. No. But I did live every day. I cherished every time my parents and my brother and I got together. I appreciated my life and never took anything nor anyone for granted. I’ve realized throughout my 34 years that life is indeed fragile and our time here on earth is indeed fleeting. But now, having lost my brother and having experienced firsthand what it feels like to have someone existing in my life one day and not the next, I’ve learned to trust the present. It’s here, and it’s all I’ve got.
I trust that I may awake in a fog but throughout the day, it’ll subside. I trust some days I will take one small step at a time, other days I’ll be leaping. I trust I’ll feel lonely in my sorrow but that I’m not entirely alone. I trust time will heal but the scar will forever exist. I trust my thoughts and feelings as my own, and whatever arises, accepting them for what they are, because they’ve originated from my very being. I trust that the sun will be in the sky, warming the atmosphere and encouraging the vitality of all living things. I trust that birds will go about their day, foraging for worms and building nests. And I trust the universe, in all its magnificence and ambiguity, because no one has all the answers. We’re just here, living in the present, gambling on trust.