I’m Glad We Existed Together in This Moment of Time

On love, loss, and knowing some souls are meant to find each other in this lifetime

I came across a quote that stopped me in my tracks:

“I’m glad we existed together in this moment of time.”

It came from James Butts, a former Postmates executive who shared those words when he entered hospice care after being diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. He was documenting his own death journey, not in a morbid way, but with this profound clarity about what really matters when time is running out.

That line hit me like a lightning bolt.

Because I thought: That’s exactly how I feel about my James.

The Beauty of “Existed Together”

My late husband, James, and I shared fifteen years together, from our early twenties to adulthood. We were figuring life out side by side, learning, growing, building a home, and raising a family.

By the time we were parted by his death, we weren’t just two people in love; we were a story. A shared existence.

When I read James Butts’ words, I understood instantly: that’s what our love was.

Not perfect, not polished, but real; a moment of time where two souls collided, and for a while, everything made sense.

The Sacredness of Time

We talk about soulmates like they last forever, but maybe the truth is that some soul connections are meant to be temporary. They come in to shape you, to wake you up, to carve meaning into your story, and then they have to go.

It hurts. It always will.

But the beauty is in knowing you existed together, that your timelines aligned, even if only for a while.

That’s the gift.

The Science of Memory and the Afterlife

There’s this piece of research that fascinates me. Scientists have discovered that about seven minutes after you die, your brain experiences a surge of activity, especially in areas tied to memory and consciousness.

Some believe this could be the brain replaying your life; a final montage of your most meaningful moments.

If that’s true, I already know how mine will go.

James will take up the majority of my reel.

The road trips. The laughter in the car. The quiet nights on the porch. The everyday moments that felt ordinary but ended up meaning everything.

That’s how deeply woven he is into my story.

The Kind of Love That Leaves an Echo

When I think of “I’m glad we existed together,” I think of how love doesn’t always get a forever, but it does get an impact.

Because we existed.

We built something real in a world that feels temporary.

We created memories strong enough to light up that final seven minutes, over and over again.

And if that’s all we ever had, it’s still everything.

Gratitude for the Time We Shared

I’m learning that healing doesn’t mean forgetting.

It means holding gratitude and grief in the same hand and letting both exist without apology.

James Butts’ quote reminded me that even though I lost my husband far too soon, I also got to exist beside him in this moment of time, and that’s something not even death can take away.