Same Advice, Different Perspective

Last week I had to give an exit interview, something I was completely unprepared for but one of my supervisors was kind enough to give me the rundown beforehand.  I was asked to give three positive points of my experience with this company and three negative ones.  I was asked if my "new" job is one I sought out or if it came to me, about how my supervisors handled the department, etc, etc.
It was a piece of cake for the most part, I mean, the reason I'm leaving has nothing to do with the company - it's a personal decision.  I thought what my career life needed was 40 hour weeks, HR departments, repetition, but I was wrong.  I thought I could handle not going into work until 12:30 and getting home anywhere between 9 and 10 at night.  I was wrong.  I thought I wouldn't miss being behind the camera, but I was wrong.
I explained all of this to Pat, the woman who conducted the interview and we ended up spending more time talking about photography and art than we did discussing technicalities.  She told me stories of her sister's husband's father who made his living with a photography business.  Her cousin was an Allstate insurance agent for 30 years before selling his business and pursuing his true passion, which was oil painting.  She said he would go through phases where he'd go to work, go home, paint all night, and do it all over again, day after day.  Then he sold his business and moved to Florida, then wound up in New York City, and is still exploring his artistic passion.
Then she told me about a friend of her's that lived in Ohio.  When it came time for her son to have his senior portraits done, she tracked down a photographer who could give them something different (very common in the Midwest - hiring a different photographer other than the one the school uses to get more out of the experience.)  One day not long after her son had his portraits done, the woman dropped dead from some sort of aneurysm.  Pat looked at me and said, "I said all of that to say this, something my mother told me time and again - you never know when it will all be over. You have to live in the moment, because before you know it, it could all come to an end."
I said, "That's exactly what my own mother tells me.  I have the hardest time with it, and am working hard at not over-thinking the past or the future, but concentrating on the present.  I have all the reason in the world to, especially when I think of what my own family has gone through."
"You're doing just that by going back to your passion."
I could have cried.