What then is this fleeting thing we call life?

What then is this fleeting thing we call life?
We laugh. We cry. We fight. We sigh. We wish. We dream.
So many tumultuous emotions-so many.
For what?
What is the point of all of this? We are such fragile sacks of skin.
Time moves so swiftly, blurring everything around me.
I try and embrace each precious moment. In quiet times when surrounded by my little family, when I am most content-I close my eyes and breathe in the moment. I freeze the memory of the moment in my mind. A photograph I pull out in emptier times and stroke a finger along and smile a rueful smile for I know. I know time is fleeting.
Nothing lasts forever-or even for a lengthy time. It is here, and then it is not.
What is the point of all of this? Is there anything more? If there is not-then why the struggle? What is the reason for this bastardly struggle we call life?
I am now of the age where people are picked off, one by one. They are here and then they are not.
I miss them. I feel their loss deep inside me like a hollowed out crater.
I understand religion and the deep need to believe there is something more than this short existence and then--? But I cannot find escape in its hallowed walls. It is not the haven of peace for me.
I’m trying to wrap my mind around this fleeting thing called life and am fully, deeply, exhaustively aware that as I struggle to comprehend—time is continually moving forward, running over everything in its path.
I feel …powerless.
And yet, each morning I rise, dress, pack my work bag, close the door to my home tucking my little family away—and drive into the day.
Another checkmark on my timecard. I am here. I am present. I am…
I am wishing I could magically gather all whom I love and have loved and surround myself with them. I want to hold them close and freeze time. To stop the bullet train of time.
I cannot.
Sigh.
I cannot. So I will continue onward against the tide of time and do this thing called life.