I took a friend to lunch, trying to console her on the recent loss of her brother. She talked about how relatively young he was when he died and about how she didn’t feel like she got enough time with him in this life, especially at the end. Naturally, I started thinking back to when my own dad died. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer when he was just 64 and I was 28. I remember so clearly thinking that I was too young to loose my dad, that I expected to have more time with him.  My stepmom and my dad had been married just 7 years, they were so happy together, she too thought there would be more time. From Dad’s diagnoses to his death was just a few months, my brother and I were shocked, the whole family was, we all felt like there should have been more time…this all got me thinking, if there had been more time, would it have been enough?

Back in university I started dating a guy I knew was transferring out of state in just a few weeks. I was so enamored with him that I didn’t care. Right up until our last day together, I was so sure that I would be content with what I had. That letting go would be easy. After all, from the get go I knew our affair was to be a short one. But, the night he left, when my bed was empty, suddenly I was so sad. I wanted more time, what  I had had was simply not enough.

What about my time with my husband Eric, who I love so deeply? When I imagine ways we could part, do I really believe that  in that moment I am going to think, “well that was just the right amount of time”? What Hallmark movie has a family gathered around their loved one’s death bed saying shit like, “I love you so much, it has been such a great life together but I think I’m about ready to be done with you”? When have I been to a funeral where there was no wailing, or crying, or sorrow, just a bunch of folks who feel satiated, like after a good meal, when you just can’t eat another bite?

When it comes to the things and people I love, it is never enough. I  always want just a little more time, a few more moments. But I live in a world of impermanence, where everyone and everything has an expiration date. And yet, I allow myself to become attached. I keep seeking satisfaction in things which, at the end, have over and over proven that they are not enough to satisfy me. I am like a fool who keeps drinking saltwater and thinking it will quench my thirst…