It's a funny thing, and it ALWAYS happens. You do your everyday thing, go out, wash dishes, comb your hair, and life just flies by. Then, one day, all of a sudden, it dawns on you that you're out of time. Suddenly everything becomes valuable - the trees are a different green, you really hear your friends laugh, you notice the freckles on your boyfriend's hands... you realise that those things have to be drunk in, and remembered.

Last night I received the news that the father of one of my closest friends passed away yesterday. As I knew him he was a lovely man, big and boomy and full of cheek, with a wisecrack for every occasion. He beat prostate cancer, ran a farm, raised four amazing children and left everyone he met with a grin on their face. (I send my love and thoughts to you, chica.)

It's ten days until I leave Montreal, and although it is going to be hard to go I've realised that I haven't seen my family in nearly two years. I feel like I haven't made enough memories with them yet. I'm not sure if you ever can make enough - if, when the time comes, there might always be the feeling that you could have done more. The very first thing I did after I found out was call my mum. I hope my family knows just how much I love and appreciate them - I've always tried to make sure they know it, but perhaps I can never tell them too much. We owe it to the people who love us to drink in every memory, to honour what they have given us. Maybe that's all life is about, in its essence - making sure that the people you care about are secure in the knowledge that you love them. And at this time it's more vital to call my friend and tell her that I love her and I'm here for her unconditionally. If that's all you can do, maybe it's enough.

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