The preciousness of this life has been on my mind heavily.
It could be because a sister I’ve known for years lost her oldest son to a senseless murder last week. Gianni was only 20 years old.
Then, I woke up this morning to see that O.J. Simpson had died.
Or, it could be that this September will mark four years since my mother’s death.
As generations pass, I reflect on the fragility of this life and wonder if I am making the most of it.
No, not I. We. I wonder if we are making the most of it.
When we say that life is short and that every day isn’t promised, do we understand the power of that revelation?
It humbles me to think that every day we are getting closer to our deaths and have no idea. That, when we were born, it also came with a death date that we will only know when the it comes knocking on our door.
What will history say about the lives we’ve lived?
What are we writing in the spaces?
I want to express my gratitude for your support in this work. If you’ve ever supported me in any way, I appreciate you and what you have contributed to this blog, my books, or me personally.
I do not take any of it for granted.
You are supporting not only me but also the community and a movement by bringing to life the stories of those who have been silent and resurrecting the voices of the voiceless.
The PBS Blog 