Walking the halls of the Intensive Care Unit at The Penn State Milton Hershey Medical Center I could feel the closeness of death. The energy on that floor is palpable. The humming of the machines, the rhythmic sounds of life support equipment, the steady beep of heart monitors, the hushed voices; collectively these sounds emit an energy that is undeniable…and profoundly sad.

As I walked down the hall toward my father’s room I was struck by this simple thought: “People should be more careful with love. Because in the end, it’s what matters most.”

A simple thought, really. That is, until you are forced to feel it.

I thought about the patients who were sitting there alone with no one by their side. I wondered how many of them were truly alone, without someone who loves them. I wondered if some of them chose to live their life throwing love away, or if maybe they were tossed aside by someone they once loved dearly. I hoped that wasn’t true for any of them. But when I walked past rooms with no visitors, I couldn’t help but wonder. My heart broke for them all.  And a bit for me too.

My father is fighting for his life. He has cancer. He was first diagnosed a few years ago. He spent a few years in remission. But recently it caught up with him again. Cancer is ugly like that.

I’m watching my Dad battle cancer at the same time I’m beginning to think about how I want to live out my own second half.  So much about my future seems unsure. Will I live out the rest of my days alone, without a partner by my side? What will the future hold exactly?  It all seems so uncertain. I guess that’s true for many of us.

Watching your father fight for his life is incredibly painful, and exhausting, and pointed. You realize the passing of time. The fragility of every second is as clear to you as the sound of your own voice. I can’t help but think about wasted time. Isn’t that cliche, I thought…as I wondered about what we’ll do if we get one more vacation with Dad…one more holiday. Every word will mean so much more. Every annoying joke he’ll tell will somehow sound new (the man loves to imitate Rodney Dangerfield, what can I say). We’ll laugh harder…we’ll love deeper. I hope we get that chance.

One thing is clear to me through all this uncertainty. And that is this: Nothing is certain. Not our health. Not our wealth. Not our time on this planet. The only thing that is certain is this very second. The now.

If love is the yardstick by which our lives are measured in the end…well, we owe it to ourselves to be more generous with it. Don’t wait to tell someone you love them. Don’t miss an opportunity to give a hug…to reach out…to ask for forgiveness…to give forgiveness. Love fiercely…like your life depends on it. Because in the end, it really is the only thing that matters.