Oh, John, at age almost-36, and as someone who lives most of the year abroad and also asks myself "How many more times will I see my parents... or my cat?"... and who wonders about when I'll live that sort of epic love... and who periodically has dreams of foreign places I've adored, wherein I race around trying to have "just one more" (e.g., empanada de verde, glimpse of the Bund) — or, worse, in these dreams, I find myself frantic at the futility of trying to bring my loved ones to share all those same joys with me "before the time runs out"... I feel all of this. In fact, I'm afraid I've been feeling all of this since I was a teenager.
Perhaps what that tells me is that sometimes these sentiments are born of an old soul, rather than a soon-decaying body. May your future be much longer and brighter than you expect. And thank you for putting this all into words so beautifully.