I just returned home from the funeral of a dear friend. This was a man with a smile and heart as big as they come. I grew up living on the same block and enjoyed many an afternoon at his home when I was young - swimming in his pool, watching a fun movie off his BIG satelitte, or enjoying a slice of warm homemade bread. When I found out a few months ago that he had been diagnosed with brain cancer I was shocked - we all thought that a heart attack would take him since he had suffered from a couple of them years before. On New Year's Eve he came to Bakersfield to visit and his family had a party for him. It was great to spend some time catching up and sharing with him all of the exciting news of the adoption and sealing. He was so sweet and said such nice to things to me. I really thought I would see him again, he would get better, bounce back, and keep smiling.
When I got an e-mail from a family friend giving us an update on him a few weeks ago, I quickly asked for his mailing address and had every intention of writing him and his wife a note to tell them how much they meant to me and thank them for some great memories. I meant to sit down right then and write that note - but I didn't. I thought of it several times over the next week and told myself, I'll do it later. Well I never did write that letter and then I got the call letting me know he had passed away. Why didn't I write that letter? Why didn't I take those few minutes to share my love for him?
I recall a few years ago when a former Bishop's wife had cancer. I started to write her a letter, I even stamped and addressed the envelope, but then I never finished it. I wanted to share with her how much I loved sitting behind her cute family each Sunday and watching them interact. I wanted her to know how I had admired her and her husband when they were first married and thought how great it would be to be just like them one day. I let the time slip away and I never sent the letter - the envelope sat in my desk for over a year and it made me feel guilty each time I saw it.
Just a few weeks ago I got an e-mail from one of my best friend's from college who shared with me that one of our dear friends had passed away - 32, mom of 2 young boys, and she was gone. For a few days I was so upset that I hadn't kept in touch with her more. Checked in on how she was, how life was going, and if there was anything I could do to help her, as she had battled some tough trials.
I guess, NO, I know I need to listen to the still small voice when I first hear it and act upon it. I feel so bad that I had those promptings and feelings and I let them pass - only to feel guilty afterward that I had not thanked these people for their dear examples. I am realizing that I can't wait - I need to act when prompted. I need to share my love and self with those around me - NOW, not tomorrow or when I have time, but NOW. I think that applies to many things in life - we don't know what tomorrow will bring, so act today - be it in my church calling, my role as wife and mother, or in improving myself. The time is now.
4 comments:
I meant to call you today to ask how the funeral was. I didn't hear about his passing until after his funeral in Utah.
I liked this post. It's a good reminder for us all.
You say it so eloquently. Most of us need to stop and smell the roses today. There is a country song by Brad Coulter entitled “I Meant To”. One of the lines goes like this, “Wouldn’t it be sad, if all we ever had, was a granite epitaph that said I meant to. Thank you for being you.
Thanks for being there for us. It is good people like you in Bakersfield that keep me wanting to come back. I went back to foxwood street while I was there and that was by far the hardest thing I have done so far. I had great memories there, and to see it such bad shape now was really depressing. It really was great to see so many people that loved my Dad at the funeral! Thanks again!
I did the same thing. I really wanted to write them and tell them how much I loved them but I kept fall behind in my thoughts thinking I had plenty of time. Now its too late.
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