It is natural to resist thinking about losing someone we love. We know that day will come. But as long as that day is not today, it's easy to deflect contemplating it. If we are fortunate, we immerse ourselves in appreciating and loving what we have while we have it. A broken marriage separated Nick from his father when he was 10. They nonetheless forged an unbreakable bond over the ensuing half-century that withstood all challenges. They doubled their joy and halved their sorrows and made the most of the little time they spent together in person. A cancer diagnosis in 2014 served up a reminder that the sands of time run very fast, and no one wins the race against the hourglass. The emotional landscape changes. So do expectations and perceptions. How much and in what ways are we changed? Does our desire for holding on have to yield to the reality of having to let go? Is a lifetime together and what we've endured in that time made less as the final destination looms larger and draws nearer each day? There is no way to practice for a time like this, even though we know that time will come. It has arrived. Now what?
