Prayers for my auntie

One of my favorite aunties is very, very ill and has nearly stepped through death's doorway more than once in the last two months. She is perched there even now as I type this up. Today, we all wait with baited breath to hear news of her.

When the calls come I'm fine, rational. When I hang up, I weep. Why do I let so much time slip through my finger tips when I could be with, talk to, or even just think happy thoughts of the ones who mean so much in my life? Is this what it means to get older...To realize that they aren't kidding when they say life is short, make every day count, live each day as if it's your last?