While on a walk this morning, my father told me a story about a friend of his who was diagnosed with stage IV brain cancer.

Not long after his diagnosis, he was having breakfast with his seven-year-old son. He was completely present with him as they talked about dinosaurs and superpowers and all the topics that interest boys at that age.

Ten minutes into the conversation, his son gave him a bewildered look and asked, "Dad, why do you keep looking at me?"

At first, he was confused by the question––then it dawned on him that his son wasn't used to his full, uninterrupted attention.

He was a very busy and successful entrepreneur and until he was faced with the reality that his life was coming to an end, his mind was always elsewhere; his eyes bouncing between his loved ones and the many demands illuminating from his phone and computer screen. He would later tell my father that his diagnosis was the best thing to ever happen to him.

The greatest, most beautiful gift we can give those we love is our presence.