I’m learning each week not to cling to the beautiful things of the world, whether a flower, a smile, or the twinkle of an eye. Enjoy them as they are, then let them go, be willing to say goodbye.
Perhaps that’s the real inheritance buried inside all those vanished birthdays: not forgetfulness at all, but a child who understood instinctively that love, genuine and lasting, is far too fragile a thing to stake on a single unwrapped moment. The people worth keeping in your life are those who already know you; they don’t require proof once a year in tissue paper and ribbon.
When you are sure about where you’re going when you die, that certainty brings powerful clarity about your life, how to live, and what to do while you’re here.