With less than 3 weeks remaining until the biggest move and step of faith in my life so far, anxiety builds amongst surrealism. And I wonder... Is this what awaiting death would feel like? Of course I mean under peaceful circumstances, in contrast to war or dire situations. My mind has built parallels. First, you're leaving loved ones behind. As remaining moments become fewer, they become more precious. Trivial things are less important, arguments end quicker, and people seem to get along better. Sadness is addressed with the assurance of eventually being reunited in a better place (Thailand). The premise of me going in the first place is that it's God's calling for me and the purpose of my last few years of work.
I had more similarities, but I wasn't able to reach a device and pen them quick enough. Maybe they will return, and I can edit later. The bottom line to this late-night rambling is that journey or death approaching, our remaining days are becoming fewer and more precious, and the cliche rings true- live every day like it's your last. I wish the senseless bickering between my siblings and me (in all directions) could have decreased and the displays of our love for each other could have abounded long before I moved to the other side of the earth.
Better late than never. I sure love them.
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