A couple of days ago, I received a message from a dear friend. It read: “I just want to let you know that I’m now on hospice. There’s not much more the medical field can do. I have left it all in God’s hands where it belongs. So many thanks to you. With so much love.” This message set the tone for what I knew would be a deeply meaningful visit.

 

Our conversation unfolded naturally, we both always had such a heartfelt connection that we shared so deeply “as is”—that it always felt like the first and last moment we might have. Despite the visible difficulty she had breathing, there was a clear force of will, a powerful desire to share what was important. This made me appreciate every word even more—each one a precious gift, delivered with meaningful intention. It was so clear that time had slowed down—I came from a world of rush and busyness into a world of deep reflection, where each pause and the many pauses between exchanges were filled with meaning. Every look we shared and each beautiful silence added depth to our connection, enriching its significance.

 

She spoke beautifully about her life, contemplating her journey, the wonderful friends she’s made, and her satisfaction with having realized her dream of running her own business. She talked about the precious moments she now spends gifting her family with tiny belongings, which, though once considered trivial, are now cherished keepsakes. She reflected on how many things that once seemed essential turned out to be minor, and how blessed she feels to have a caring family around her.

 

“Everybody wants to see me now,” she observed, not with any expectation or pretense, but with a newfound realization of how precious these moments are. It highlighted for her how life should involve less rush and more presence, a reminder that we should all make more room for these meaningful connections in our daily routines, something we often overlook.

 

And here the true magic came—She shared how her brother visited, saw her condition, cried, and admitted, “I don’t know what to tell you.” And here, she said, “I realized something so profound!” She responded with comforting simplicity, “You don’t have to say anything. The most important is that I know you loved me, and I loved you. Love is all that matters, really after all, nothing else matters.”

 

She continues, “I think to myself, probably visitors who come to see me don’t know what to say.” My deep smile at this observation revealed my agreement. She carries on, “but sometimes just being there is more than enough. Knowing that you are loved and you love. After all, it is all that matters here, all that Life is about.” In these times, when you feel one leg here and one leg there, I have truly discovered that Love is the only reason why we are here. Only that makes sense. I tell you, only Love.