Our culture insists in looking for things we can measure, signs of a life well lived through metrics like health, strength, and success, but maybe we, too, should start listening for new vital signs; beds surrounded by loved ones, legacies of kindness and generosity, best friends who call for more ice chips (when we’re in the hospital), and doctors who hold our hands when we are scared.

It is the stuff the world may never reward, but is the lifeblood of what it means to be human. We are not our trophies or our bank accounts or our job titles. We are human and we are loved and what is more beautiful than that?

So, blessed are the hand-holders and the truth-tellers, for they will walk us to the end, before they have to let go.