In the last few months of my Father’s life, when it was clear that our time with him was drawing to a close, I felt so many conflicted, conflicting and overwhelming emotions it was like my heart, brain and soul were on fire, perpetually in overdrive. Of the many feelings I experienced, however, regret was not among them. We were blessed with this man who felt comfortable openly expressing his love for us for 72 years; because of this, there was nothing that felt “unsaid”; there were no hidden resentments or “if only”s, just gratitude for a life well-lived and peace about affection and respect abundantly expressed.
As the days between his presence and departure quickened, however, I found myself distracted from thinking about nearly anything else…even my own infant son, who would not remember his Grandpa. I was rushing about, breathless, like there was a time-bomb ticking somewhere that MUST BE DEFUSED! In this state of high alarm, I behaved as anyone who perceives themselves to be in an emergency situation does—I prioritized and cut-to the-chase, because I had no time for nonsense.
In July of the year my Father passed, my boy was turning one and my parents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. In honor of this auspicious occasion, we decided as a family to toast the milestone together on Martha’s Vineyard. Plans were made, a house was rented and we all found our way out to the island for this final commemoration. I drove up from Virginia with my baby and my baby sister, stopping overnight in NYC to celebrate the birthday of a dear friend.
Another friend of mine who would be driving from NYC to the Outer Banks in the same time frame reached out to me—could we arrange to have our paths intersect? She suggested hooking up somewhere on the 95 corridor for lunch. As a seasoned traveler of I-95, I told her that trying to coordinate the timing of that would be a miracle on par with the parting of the Red Sea; plus, I had that time-bomb ticking that MUST BE DEFUSED! I refused her request.
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Early in the fall, I was visiting with my parents when hospice care started coming in; Dad’s death was now imminent. I decided to stay for the duration, so made the 7 hour round trip to my house to get more clothes for myself and my son in one day. In the short time I was at home, the phone rang; checking caller ID, I saw that it was my friend, the one I hadn’t met on I-95 for lunch. We’d been playing phone tag for a few weeks, as she had recently had a health scare of her own. But I wanted to get back on the road, so I told myself I would call her from Mom and Dad’s. I heard that time-bomb ticking.
Of course, I forgot all about it until the phone rang at my folk’s place that night. It was my husband calling to tell me that he had just gotten off of the phone with my friend’s spouse; she had passed away. My beautiful friend, who was 39 years old and in the prime of her life, had quite suddenly died.
I was in shock; I went to tell my mother and even though I am certain I was not being loud, something about my tone, even coming from another room, drew my Father out of bed for the first time in days. When I shared with him what had happened, he just patted my hand and said very calmly, “I will be seeing her soon”. He died less than two weeks later.
The time-bomb had gone off. Twice. There was no defusing it.
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I felt grief in both of these losses, but it was much sharper in regards to my friend because of that one element that had been missing with my Dad: regret. Regret that someone so young was gone too soon, regret for all the work that had just begun blossoming for her, regret for her bereaved husband, regret for blowing her off when she asked to have lunch that last time. And I can justify all I want what a logistical nightmare it would have been, ESPECIALLY with a baby on board, but it will never change the fact that I wish I had done it anyway. I really, really do.
My Dad’s death changed how I am, of course. For one, his grace and fearlessness in the face of that vast eternity made me much less frightened at the prospect of it myself. For another, I stopped counting on him “being there” for me, and started allowing him to “be here” with me instead. I believe the death of a beloved activates that part of us that we reserved especially for them permanently.
In that way, my Father became almost more present for me after his passing. I never think of myself as being without him now. He still has the power to assert himself through me and everyone who loved him and honors his memory.
But my friend’s death changed how I act. People frequently express amazement at the sometimes extraordinary lengths I will go to just to have lunch with a friend, but I will tell you this: no matter how “inconvenient” the drive, the plan, the timing, I have NEVER ONCE regretted having done it. Not even once.
And this does NOT mean I never say “no” anymore–I am actually a world champ at saying “no” to things I don’t want to do. But I always want to connect with the people I love; I always want the grace and comfort of their presence. Just sometimes it’s hard to remember with all the white noise life creates, those “time-bombs” I imagine.
We all know intellectually that real love—be it romantic or platonic—is the core of our existence, our raison d’être. But with all of the running around modern life requires of us, it’s easy to lose that focus and take it very much for granted. As we breathlessly pursue our next success or acquisition, we sometimes forget how meaningless it all is without people to share it with.
My son is a teenager now, and pre-COVID we were leaving a party and I asked him, “Did you have fun?” and he answered, “I love you too.” Both because he wasn’t really listening and because “I love you” are the words he hears most often from me, bar none. When he realized his “mistake”, he laughed and said, “Hey, you changed it up on me!”
Love like it’s the last chance you’ve got. Never miss an opportunity to spend time with the people who nourish your soul. We always think we’ve got tomorrow, and that’s probably true; so put off the rushing around until then and make love your priority today.
You will have no regrets if you do.
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This post is republished on Medium.
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