Carpe Diem

Friday 1 June, noon

I just happened to look at some pictures people sent to us by email, plus some of my own, showing Lara on Xmas morning 2010. She's unwrapping presents in the company of her siblings, in-laws and cousins, in North Star, near Lake Tahoe, California. Alacrity is in the air, the atmosphere is snug and cozy, pajamas, sweaters, morning attire, mugs of coffee. A next photo shows us around the dinner table that same day having a great time. Taken later that Xmas day, is one of Lara working the rowing machine in the local fitiness club, right after we had done laps in the open-air heated pool, at 2600 meters altitude!

All this took place about one week before the first symptoms of leukemia began to manifest themselves, on 3 January 2011. We were still completely oblivious of impending doom. We lived our days in a carefree and joyous environment, unawares. As if life would carry on as it was - thanks perhaps to our habitual toast every time we clunked glasses together: 'health and riches, and we'll take care of the rest'. Little did we know.

What it taught us was a lesson we wouldn't have a chance to ever again forget. Live every day as if it were your last. Take out of it whatever is in there. Pluck it. Cram into it whatever fits inside. Avoid evenings that are sudddenly there and you turn around to see how little ways you've come. Life is precarious. Fortune is fickle. Don't let it slip away like sand between your fingers. Avoid regrets of your own making, for you may not get a second chance.