Tuesday, July 15

One More Chance

Bah. A friend of Aunt B's and Aunt Jo Ann's lost her son recently. He was 35. Had two young boys. Sometimes, this stuff comes out of nowhere. We get so content, thinking it's okay to be short with our little ones or our loved ones because we're tired or achy or just in a pissy mood. We'll get over it, and do better tomorrow. And while it's good to give ourselves grace and not hold self-flogging grudges, I wonder how often we just don't try too hard to do the right thing because we figure we can fix it, make up for it, and move on -- later. Sometimes, later just doesn't come.

I don't want to go from this world, leaving a story unread, a secret unshared, a joke untold. I don't want "later" to be the lingering word that defines my legacy. I'm not saying I do that. I'm not saying you do that. And I'm definitely not saying this man did. I'm saying, simply, that this news struck me hard, right in that spot where I'm all quivery and vulnerable - that spot that knows there isn't some magic point at which we become impervious to death. Not when we hit one year old and the risk of SIDS goes way down. Not when we hit twelve years old, and can be hired to watch other people's children. Not when our insurance drops for good behavior or statistical improvement (age, marriage, high GPA). Not when our cholesterol levels are low, or our EFA levels are good, or when we're on top of the world and looking ahead. Not even the presence of little hands that need holding can stop death from collecting us when it calls.

And that scares the piss out of me, folks. I don't fear death. I just don't want to go right now. There is so much to enjoy, and I all too often do forget how enjoyable it is. The spitup and crying, the fear of conquering new skills and the absolute conviction of a child that if he doesn't have something to eat riiiiggghhhhhht noooooooowww, he'll never make it the fifteen minutes until dinner is ready... there's joy in that. There's good work in that.

And I want the work to be done well. There's no other job in this world that needs to be done well so much as this one of having a family - spouse, child, mother, aunt, uncle, cousin - people who look to you and depend on you, people who love you and care about you, people who know you love and care about them, in return. We want to do that well. We want to do that now. Not later. Not after another trip to the store, or after the dishes are done. We can talk while we work. We can read before we go. We can always, always, always remember that this might just be all that's left, and we want it to be sweet.
Well, that'll kick a gal out of a funk pretty darned quick, lemme tell you that. So, it's only eleven o'clock. I'm taking my vitamins, and going to bed. Because in the morning, there will be another stack of stories to read, more jokes to tell, and probably more dishes to wash. I don't mind leaving the dishes behind, actually. But the rest, I don't want to miss. Not if I can help it.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

11 comments:

Konkadoo said...

Ouch. No, double ouch. You just put a lot on me to think about that I've been happily going along pretending it doesn't need thinking about.

I'll be chewing on this a bit tonight. It's good though. It needs thinking on.

mere said...

This is a beautiful post, Dy, and what a cute picture of Emily!

You said it well, and I second it whole heartedly.

mere

Bridget said...

Wow, you sure made me sit up and take notice this morning. You are so right and it's sad that it takes the loss of someone young to make us look at ourselves. We tend to get complacent and figure we have all the time in the world to give that extra hug or spend that few minutes with someone.
Love the picture of Emily, she is just down right squeezable.

Jenni said...

Great post, Dy! I've been thinking about this a lot lately due to the recent death of a good friend of ours. Mostly I've been thinking about how much her loss is and will continue to be felt by her husband, children, and grandchildren. We have the hope of Christ's return, and that is a great comfort, but she will be greatly missed here and now even if we know that we will see her again someday. I think that the way she lived her life there will be many of those moments you speak about for her family to look back on fondly. It makes me want to do things differently in my own life, though. I want to take better care of myself so I have a better chance of being around for a very long time. I want to squeeze everything I can into life and love my family and friends that much more so that if I do not live as long as I'd like there will be plenty of warm memories for my family and no doubt about how much I loved them. I don't know that I will be able to do it all, and I seriously doubt I will be able to do it perfectly, but I will strive to do my best and to make my best better. (I learned that last part from Tiger Cubs:o))

That's a beautiful pic of EmBaby, too. I love the way the sunlight is shining through her wispy blonde hair forming a halo around her.

Anonymous said...

Wow, all I can say is ... Wow!
Thanks for this post.
I needed to hear this today, more than you can ever know.

Emily (Laundry and Lullabies) said...

You're absolutely right, and I'm glad that I read this this morning.

Melora said...

Such a good reminder. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

Then sometimes you think you have done everything right and there are still some unanswered questions that linger, because no matter how right you did it, your vision of the very near future just might not look the same now as it did 10 years ago when you were busy doing everything right.

Dy said...

Anon, thank you for sharing your thoughts. I don't think there is any way to do "everything right". Or, at least I've never felt like one of those Moms who do. We do what we can. When we can. For me, and I write posts like this, not to admonish others, but to remind myself, I need to remember to do my best. It won't be perfect, and that'll have to be okay, but I do need to be able to say that I offered up the very best of what I had to give. That's all I was saying. I cannot go back ten years and change then. I can only begin with today.

And for Melora, Emily, Dawn, Jenni, Bridget, Mere, Cheryl... I'm glad you were uplifted and encouraged. You have no idea how often each of you have that same effect on me. :-)

Dy

Jules said...

Nice post, Dy. It's nice to have a gentle reminder to focus on the important things.

J-Lynn said...

Awwwwwww I'm sorry for their loss.

Good thoughts Dy.

Em reminds me of Belle. She's so big now, wow!