My brain..., which I so relied on to navigate life, to communicate, to cultivate relationships, and to even care for myself in this life...
...is now failing me.
I spent my life doing what many have done, raising a family and working a career.
Now at the early age of 56, and with the end in sight, I finally discover what is really beautiful and good.
Terminal illness tends to bring things into a different focus.
My abilities to add to this world, and to be creative, is now faltering.
I am making an effort anyway.
It is a race without a finish line I can see.
I see fog ahead. But I feel it close.
Life is so different.
But it is still good...
...because I choose for it to be.