There Is Still So Much Life to Live

In Buddhism, the Five Remembrances invite us to reflect on aging, illness, death, separation from what we love, and the consequences of our actions.

We may understand those things long before we know what they will ask of us.

We know our parents will grow older, but watching them need help can still catch us unprepared. We know relationships change, but we may still imagine certain people beside us years from now. We know our own time is limited, yet we can spend months postponing something we would enjoy, assuming there will be a more convenient time.

Then something happens, and what we already knew becomes something we feel.

Lately, I’ve been looking back. Remembering people I love, revisiting parts of my life, and understanding some things differently than I did when I was living through them.

Now, I’m finding myself looking forward again.

And the question I keep coming back to is this:

How do we want to live the life still ahead of us?

Moving forward with an absence

Some of us are learning to live without someone who died. Others are moving forward without someone who is still alive.

A marriage ended. A friendship changed. A family relationship became difficult. Something happened that changed how we understood the connection, or what we were willing to continue accepting within it.

Sometimes we chose the separation ourselves.

That choice can be clear and still carry sadness. We can remember a person fondly without wanting the relationship to return to what it was. We can miss the conversations, the familiarity, or a particular time in our lives while knowing why we chose another direction.

Death and the ending of a relationship are different experiences. Each can leave ordinary spaces we have to learn to live with: a phone call we no longer make, a holiday that needs a different plan, news we instinctively want to share.

Those moments can interrupt a perfectly good day.

I used to think more about how to get through the sadness. Now I’m also thinking about what happens alongside it. What else deserves my attention? What am I still interested in? Who is here, sharing this day with me?

I can miss someone in the morning and laugh over dinner. I can revisit a painful memory and still look forward to something on my calendar.

Both feelings belong to my life. I don’t have to wait until I never feel sad to enjoy what is still here.

The effort of enjoying life

For a long time, my social life was limited partly because I preferred staying in.

There is comfort in being home. You know your surroundings. You don’t have to get ready, coordinate a plan, or decide whether you have the energy for conversation. After a difficult season, that comfort can be especially appealing.

But I had to look honestly at my own part in it.

I wanted more experiences, yet I often chose the same routine. I could say I wanted to get out more, but eventually that meant getting dressed, making a plan, and leaving the house.

Recently, I’ve been making that effort.

I have plans to go to the movies, something I haven’t done in a long time. It sounds ordinary because it is. That is part of why it matters to me. An evening doesn’t have to change my life to be worth enjoying.

I want to sit in that theater and be interested in the story. Enjoy the company. Have something to talk about afterward.

With everything happening in our lives and in the world, there will always be something upsetting or unfinished. Waiting for all of it to settle could mean waiting through years we might otherwise have enjoyed.

For anyone who recognizes that habit, perhaps the beginning is something equally ordinary. Accepting an invitation. Trying a café. Calling a friend and choosing an actual day to meet.

We find out what a day can hold by participating in it.

Making room for people who are here

Loss has made me more attentive to the everyday ways people make life better.

A funny message. Someone remembering what you told them last week. An invitation that turns into a lovely afternoon. A conversation in which both people ask questions and listen to the answers.

I appreciate those things more now.

People have different ways of staying connected. Some prefer a phone call. Others send a text or a message online. The method matters less to me than the thought and effort behind it.

Friendship, family, and dating all need participation.

That doesn’t mean keeping a tally. There are seasons when one person has less to give, and caring about them includes understanding that. We will need that understanding ourselves.

Over time, though, a relationship grows through both people making room for it.

Shared history is meaningful. So is how we treat each other today.

We can appreciate what someone has meant to us while noticing whether the relationship still has warmth, curiosity, and care. We can also recognize when it has changed enough that it no longer belongs in our lives in the same way.

There is no need to turn every change into an argument. Sometimes we make our plans, follow through on our goals, and allow the relationship to become what both people’s actions support.

Our days deserve more than being held open for a possibility.

Warmth and boundaries can belong together

I want relationships where people can be themselves and still treat one another thoughtfully.

We won’t agree about everything. We have different experiences, habits, and opinions. I value being able to talk about those differences without every disagreement becoming a judgment of someone’s character.

I want to offer that same consideration.

Having boundaries helps me understand what I can give wholeheartedly and what leaves me feeling worn down. It helps me make decisions before resentment begins doing the speaking for me.

We can be generous and still decline an invitation. We can listen to someone’s opinion and make a different choice. We can care about a person without continuing every pattern we have shared with them.

I’ve also learned to pay attention to what happens after an interaction. Do I feel comfortable? Understood? Am I able to return to my day, or am I spending hours defending myself in my own mind?

That is information worth considering.

Peace becomes more possible when our everyday choices support it. The conversations we continue, the arguments we enter, the people we make time for, and the limits we follow through on all have a part in that.

Staying curious about connection

Dating has given me something to think about here, too.

I’ve decided to leave the apps behind. I’m glad I tried them. They helped me understand what interests me, what works for me, and how much I value spending time with someone in person.

They also made me question how we approach getting to know one another, myself included.

I once unmatched someone because his replies were slow. When we later started talking, I discovered interests and qualities I genuinely liked. There was more to him than I had understood from those early exchanges.

We never ended up meeting. The communication eventually faded. Still, it made me pause.

Had I noticed a difference in how we communicate? Yes. Had I learned enough to understand the person? Probably not.

Both things could be true. I could value consistent communication while acknowledging that a reply time alone could not tell me whether I would enjoy an afternoon with him.

That experience made me think about how many decisions we make before we ever sit across from someone.

On an app, another profile is always waiting. I found it easy to stay in that habit of looking, comparing, and deciding. We may want connection, yet spend more time considering possibilities than giving one of them a chance to become an actual experience.

I wondered how often the possibility of someone else distracts us from being curious about the person already in front of us.

There is always another photograph to look at, another conversation to begin. Meanwhile, the person we might enjoy knowing remains someone we exchange a few messages with between everything else.

Of course, we need to be selective. Attraction matters. So do shared values, compatibility, and how someone treats us. Having standards helps us make thoughtful choices.

But I began asking myself what I could reasonably know from a profile, and what would require time together.

A photograph cannot show me how easily we laugh. A list of interests cannot tell me whether someone listens with curiosity. A pleasant conversation over messages cannot tell me whether either of us will make a plan and follow through.

Eventually, getting to know someone asks something of both people. We have to make time, be present, and accept that we cannot know the outcome before we begin.

That is true of friendship, too.

We can become so used to our routines that we want new people in our lives without making much room for them. I recognize that in my own preference for staying home. If I want more shared experiences, I have to be willing to participate.

For me, stepping away from the apps is part of putting more attention into that. Going places I enjoy. Accepting invitations. Starting conversations. Letting familiarity grow through time spent together.

I wish anyone who continues with online dating well. I understand why people use it, and I’m grateful for what I learned about myself.

I’m simply clearer now about how I want to spend my time.

I’m open to love. I also have goals, family, friendships, and interests that make my life meaningful today. I want to keep enjoying those things and remain curious about whom I might meet along the way.

A conversation can be worth having before we know whether it will become anything more. An afternoon can be lovely even if it never leads to a second date.

And when there is mutual interest, I value the simple willingness to act on it: make the invitation, choose a day, show up, and see how it feels to be together.

There is only so much we can discover by wondering.

What we choose next

The fifth remembrance brings my attention back to my actions and their consequences.

I cannot decide how long someone will live, whether a relationship will remain the same, or how another person will respond to me. I can take responsibility for how I speak, what I follow through on, and where I give my time.

That gives me plenty to work with.

I’m continuing to build Eternal Marigold and put effort into ideas that matter to me. I have grandchildren to enjoy and a granddaughter I cannot wait to meet.

There is something deeply moving about remembering the people who helped shape your life while preparing to welcome someone whose life is just beginning.

It makes me think about what I want to pass on. The stories, certainly. The love. Also the example of continuing to be interested in the world, making things, meeting people, and enjoying ordinary days.

Strength, for me, includes making that effort while acknowledging what I carry. Some days I will have more energy for it than others. A difficult day does not undo the direction I’ve chosen.

Perhaps you are considering your own next chapter. There may be people you miss, relationships you have stepped away from, or plans you have left untouched for a long time.

You may already know one thing you would like to do next.

Give it a day on the calendar. Take the first practical step. Reach toward the people and experiences you want to make part of your life.

There will be memories and moments of missing. There can also be laughter, new beginnings, and afternoons that turn out better than we expected.

There is still so much life to live. I intend to enjoy mine. 🤍

Lily Colchan