the world is like a dew / and it is indeed / even so, even so . . .
tsuyu no yo wa
tsuyu no yo nagara
Kobayashi Issa (1763 – 1828)
My father is on his deathbed. The doctor is keeping him sedated to reduce his pains, and he can barely talk anymore.
Everybody who knows him says that he has lived a full life. But who can decide when “full” is full-enough.
Does he feel he got enough from life? Alas, I can’t ask him any more, though I think not. He has lived a great life. But, even so, even so . . .
How do you value the promise of experiencing one more sunrise? Maybe it takes the certainty of death to realize the best thing about another tomorrow is in its uncertain possibilities.
Tomorrow might be just another day, but for sure it will be a new chance.
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