Just like the song says about stolen moments, "They are precious and few that two can share." My mother was wondering today if my father knew he only had 18 more days left. I suspect he knew they were numbered, but doubt he knew the exact amount he had left. It did get me to thinking though. Having lost so many friends and family over the last decade or so, I really do try my best to make the most of every moment I'm with them. I want to remember, through pictures, memories, or stories, of how a person made me feel. To savor the moment, to capture it forever, to never let them go. But sometimes you have to. Not that you want to, but you just have to because of circumstance, death, or distance. To me, it doesn't matter, because I still hold them close to my heart. I still have the memories and the shared moments. I still have the photographs. I miss so many people now gone from me. Their impact on me is absorbed, so ingrained, so much a part of me, it's hard to separate. Not that I would ever willingly do so. Time marches on. Things change, but there is comfort in remembering the people you have cared about from the past, whether family or friend. The happier times. The carefree laughter. Just the simple joy of being, sharing and caring with another human being that is just as grateful for having you in their life as you are in having them in yours. It really does add texture, depth, and meaning to your life.