One day, you’ll wake up to some unexpected news.
You’ll receive word that while you were sleeping…running…playing…working…
someone who loves you, quietly left your world.
You’ll stand in disbelief. Even though, all along, you had told yourself to expect it. And perhaps you had, somewhat. But the finality of it will encircle you swiftly and tightly, and with such force, you’ll believe it will crush you. The loss will press heavy against your heart and lungs, so mightily, that it will push the breath out of you.
Emptiness like this is something you have never felt before. You won’t be able to put words to it.
And then, the If Only Chorus will begin to sing to you.
It’s a loud, boisterous chorus, too.
You’ll mentally kick yourself.
There will be no more chances to say or do a nice thing… No more opportunities for a “Kodak Moment” photograph. No chance to say “thank you for loving me”.
Your casualness will mock you:
“Come see me sometime”, they said.
“Ok, soon as I can…”
You will long to hear those old, often told stories, just one more time.
You will replay the last time you saw them, and you’ll wish for one more day to do things differently. One more chance to be more attentive, to stay in the moment.
But one more day is done.
So, this upcoming year, let’s find time for them. Pick up the phone and call them. Even if they’re old and quirky.
Go visit them. Even if you know that five minutes from now, they won’t remember being in the room with you.
Take a minute for a photo; a conversation. Ask them questions about their life.
Right now, the gift of your time is for them.
In the future, it will be a healing memory for you.
One day, when your own days begin to slow down, you will regret all the seemingly insignificant moments of life you let slip away. Capture as many moments as is possible.
I hope you create a lifetime of memories, everyday.
“The quality of strength lined with tenderness is an unbeatable combination.” M Angelou