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