We all know this feeling. The friend whose company we took for granted becomes irreplaceable the moment they move away. The parent whose advice we brushed off becomes wise only in memory. The colleague we barely acknowledged becomes someone we cannot stop thinking about once they are gone.

Camus points to something uncomfortable here. We do not struggle to feel. We struggle to feel on time. Our appreciation arrives late, after the person has already left, after the relationship has already ended, after the window has already closed. We are spectators of our own emotional lives, noticing value only in its absence.

Why does this happen? Perhaps because presence makes demands. The living friend needs a phone call returned. The living parent needs patience. The living colleague needs attention. The dead ask nothing of us. That is why our love for them flows so freely. It costs us nothing.

Awareness, then, is not just about noticing beauty or being present for pleasant moments. It is about the harder work of seeing what is here right now, while it is still here, when seeing still requires something of us. Anyone can admire a sunset in a photograph. The challenge is to look up while the light is still changing.

Who in your life deserves your attention today, not tomorrow?

See also: Lucid to the Last | Only the Present | The Stranger