Lately, I have become more mindful of my last interactions with people. More mindful that it may well be the last time we see each other. A friend suffered a massive stroke recently. He had not been taking his own blood pressure medication as he navigated his mother’s failing health. The last time we spoke he was fearful that his mom wasn’t going to last much longer. Now, he’s in a coma, the doctor adamant that he will not recover. His mother holds out hope, refusing to let them disconnect his life support, fighting to will him back to her. The last time he came to see me I was preoccupied with stuff. I don’t remember us sharing our usual friendly banter. I didn’t want to hear the depressing news of what else was wrong with his mom. I don’t recall myself being the good friend he probably needed. I pray that my own preoccupations and my just not wanting to be bothered isn’t the last thing he had to remember about me and him together.
A grade school buddy and high school confidante took her life recently, jumping from a NY bridge to her death. I cannot fathom what had happened that could have brought her so much sadness that the only solution she could see was her death. Our last conversation haunts me. She’d called me from parts unknown. I could hear it in her voice that something wasn’t quite right but in the course of the conversation I never learned what was wrong. I was giddy with my own good news, excited to be sharing my accomplishments with a friend. I’ve since learned that she was homeless and destitute. A marriage and subsequent relationships had failed. A child had been miscarried. My dear sweet friend didn’t feel she had anywhere to turn and I wonder if she had been trying to turn to me and I failed her.
I recently sent my son a text message to tell him how much I loved him. He thought my timing and my message was random. And perhaps it was, but I worry that time may fail me and any opportunity to tell him how much I love him may pass me by. I’m sharing my accolades for friends and family every chance I get. Some of them think I’m crazy. And I may very well be, but I’d much rather send my flowers now than risk not being able to do it later. Later may very well be too late for us all.
A grade school buddy and high school confidante took her life recently, jumping from a NY bridge to her death. I cannot fathom what had happened that could have brought her so much sadness that the only solution she could see was her death. Our last conversation haunts me. She’d called me from parts unknown. I could hear it in her voice that something wasn’t quite right but in the course of the conversation I never learned what was wrong. I was giddy with my own good news, excited to be sharing my accomplishments with a friend. I’ve since learned that she was homeless and destitute. A marriage and subsequent relationships had failed. A child had been miscarried. My dear sweet friend didn’t feel she had anywhere to turn and I wonder if she had been trying to turn to me and I failed her.
I recently sent my son a text message to tell him how much I loved him. He thought my timing and my message was random. And perhaps it was, but I worry that time may fail me and any opportunity to tell him how much I love him may pass me by. I’m sharing my accolades for friends and family every chance I get. Some of them think I’m crazy. And I may very well be, but I’d much rather send my flowers now than risk not being able to do it later. Later may very well be too late for us all.
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