By Christine Flowers
National Right to Life News Today
Recently, I’ve had occasion to contemplate the value of life at its extreme edges. I’m talking about the moments when we see it bursting into the world, fresh from its mother’s womb, “trailing clouds of glory,” as Wordsworth wrote.
I’m also talking, and personally, about those moments when life is a faint shadow of that former glory, the final moments of a magnificent life that is on the verge of ending. To me, humanity is not measured by what we look like, what we are able to contribute, our ability to speak, feel, see or create. To me, life simply exists on a beautiful continuum, and each stage of that continuum is precious.
In my mother’s last days, she was as dear to me, if not more, than when we took that trip together to Paris and London, and shared laughter, beauty and croissants. As I approached losing her, my appreciation for her weighty presence in my own life took on exponentially greater proportions.
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