Thursday, July 13, 2017

Do It. Just Do It.

In the past month, two ladies that I know passed away, both succumbing to what began in their bodies as breast cancer.  Both women fought and clawed, they had faith, they had tribes of people who loved and supported them, prayed for them.  Did cancer win or did they?  After all they're free of pain.  But one of these women won't see her grandchild grow up and another will never even meet her grandchildren.  The very thought - both instances - brings tears to my eyes.

One of these women was someone I went to church with growing up.  Her daughters were similar age to my brother and I and our parents were friends.  There was one Fourth of July where my water bed sprung a leak and she and my dad ended up in the bathtub together trying to drain the damn thing.  We all laughed at how all the Baptists would be whispering if only they knew they two of them were in the bathtub together.  By the way, we were Baptists: we knew about all the whispering they did.  ;)

The other was someone I met through an online group.  I didn't know her as well as many of the other ladies but I knew her well enough to know that she had a sharp wit, a big heart, and she loved her boys fiercely. 

Since learning that my "internet friend" passed away, I've found myself wanting to soak up my children.  I want to be around them.  When my ex texted me Sunday afternoon and asked if I could keep J and the K's for this week - his week - I wasn't annoyed; I was relieved.  More summer with them!  More time with them!  As I told Mark's brother, it felt like a gift.  The gift of time.  Alas, they're at the ages where my "soaking them up" is their "she's smothering me." 

That's how I found myself in the pool Monday afternoon, alone with only my thoughts.  And I thought about these ladies, about how their lives were cut short.  How very unfair.  How there is a girl very close to my own age who wakes up every single day mourning her mother.  How there are boys, not much older than mine, who will go back to school in a month or so as completely and totally different people.  Little people who lost their mother at a far too young age.  It's just . . . it's not fair. 

Untimely death reminds us all of our mortality.  We're not promised tomorrow.  We're not guaranteed the right to watch our children grow up, to attend their college graduations, to dance at their weddings.  Life is precious and it's fleeting.  And that's why we should just do it.

Do it.  Kiss your babies.  I grab K2 by the cheeks and tell her I'm going to eat her freckles.  "This one tastes like chocolate!  Oooh, caramel!  Mint!"  Love your children and love them hard.   Say "yes" to the ice cream every once in a while and put down your phone and jump in the pool with them, get your hair wet.  Date your partner, call them in the middle of the day just to say, "I love you and I wanted to hear your voice."  Make love to them, dance in the kitchen, gross your kids out by kissing in front of them.  Drink the good wine, eat the chocolate, smell the honeysuckle on a spring night.  Go for a drive, windows down, just because.  Take that vacation.  Lose yourself in a book.  Fix a decadent meal or dessert just because it's Tuesday.  Plan that girl's night and don't worry about how many tacos you eat or margaritas you consume.  Smile at your neighbors, don't worry about the price of the cherries at the grocery store, and send birthday cards to the people you love.  Just do it.  Just live

My friend Naz summed it up best on Facebook the other day: "If anyone has noticed a lot of the good ones leaving this Earth, realize that it's for a reason. Someone else's end should be a reminder that we have the ability to start a new beginning; a life where you say what you mean and mean what you say.. a life where you live life and LOVE HARD."

1 comment:

  1. Love 💗 this so much!! Can you just imagine the laughter between Sandee and your dad in heaven! Hugs, to you!!