I know, I know, we’ve all heard it–no one is guaranteed tomorrow. Depending on the setting, and depending on your age when (usually) an older person says it, this admonition is easier or harder to ignore.
But I am here to sound the trumpet: There might not be a tomorrow for you or for someone you care about!
So if there is something you need to say, something you need to do, please, please, please–for the love of LOVE, say it or do it!
My family will tell you that I’ve always been one of those people who says things on the phone and writes things in cards that most folks just think about but never put into words.
And since Dominic’s death, I am even bolder.
Because we had NO CLUE that the last time each of us spoke with him, or texted him, or exchanged emails with him was going to be the LAST TIME. He wasn’t sick or going off to war, so there was no reminder of the brevity of life the day before he died.
Don’t get me wrong, we are not always roses and buttercups around here.
We have plenty of disagreements and misunderstandings. And every one of us has strong opinions about almost everything. But we refuse to stay angry for more than a few minutes. Even when all that can be said or done is a text, “I’m sorry. I love you. Let’s talk about this later when we’re not so worked up.”
That’s what we do.
That’s what we’ve always done.
And we are not shy about blessing one another either: “Great job!” “I knew you could do it!” “Sorry you are having a bad day-praying.”
Who decided that smiley face stickers were only for kindergartners? We all need encouragement every day.
I can’t bring Dominic back.
I can’t get one more second, one more minute, one more day with my third born child to tell him I love him and that I am so very proud of him and that he was witty and a wonderful drummer and a good, good friend to so many people.
But I know he knows.
Because even though I can’t tell him now, I told him then.
I told him often and I told him in ways that were meaningful to him.
So, I carry the burden of missing him. I carry the weight of sorrow that comes from burying a child. But I am free from the awful cross that I might have been forced to bear if I didn’t know that I had loved him well.
And for that, I am grateful.