Writing Solutions

"We Can Right It For You"

The Time Is Now

I went to visit an old friend the other day. Her remains are in a wall overlooking the Pacific Ocean near Point Loma, CA. She would have loved the view. Life for the rest of us has gone on, yet it is difficult to believe that six years has passed since 'Curly' died.

I've lost family and friends before. This friend was very special. She was the common thread who united many lives. I missed her funeral service. I lived clear across the country and was recovering from surgery and couldn't travel. I don't feel guilty, just sad.

I am told that the chapel was filled. People from all walks of life were there… her friends, daughters, husband, business associates, and golf buddies. Standing room only would have pleased her. Had s been there, she would have looked for a way to introduce everybody.

She died suddenly and did not suffer, I've been told. She was 60 years old and while not in perfect health, still way too young to leave us. I didn't say goodbye. What bugs me was that I really could have spoken to her one more time.

My husband and I, living in Charleston, SC at the time were vacationing in New England. Bill's birthday balls on the 4th of July, which has proven to be a wonderful, time to have a celebration. We always cheer for the red, white, and blue, and lift our glasses and our voices in a special toast to "Mr. Bill."

We had returned to the hotel after watching the fireworks cascade over a nearby lake. I mentioned to Bill that since it was three hours earlier in California, I wanted to give our friends a call. The phone call served several purposes; it would gave them an opportunity to wish Bill a happy birthday as well as the chance to reflect on all the history we had made while celebrating the 4th together.

It's certainly not Bill's fault, but I allowed myself to be talked out of making the call. He reasoned, and logically so, that we were returning home in a few days, so why didn't I call from there?

The thing is, I never got to make the call. When we returned home there were a slew message on the machine. One messages gave me the chills then, as it does now. She just left a message to call. No reason, but there was the sound of foreboding in her strained voice.

I quickly returned the call to Curly's sister-in-law. Without the slightest warning, 'Curly' had succumbed to a cerebral hemorrhage the night before. She was alive at seven, gone by ten-thirty.

I hung up and tried to collect myself before I broke the news to Bill. Why hadn't I called her when I had wanted to? I should have listened to my heart and my instincts. Hey, all it was - was a phone call. I'll never know whether it would have made a difference.

Had we spoken, the conversation never would have included something like, "hey, I'll say goodbye now in case one of us dies soon." We would have talked about what we were each doing; then politics, golf, who would be making the next trip and whatever else came to mind.

It's been six years and I've gotten a bit better above my resolve to communicate with people I care about. I do not assume that there will be an occasion called, "one of these days when I have time." I do it now.

Pick up the phone, send an email, write a letter, just contact the friend you've been thinking about, and meaning to reach.. Get out the calendar and set a date for lunch, for a drink, for a walk, for a whatever… just do it so you don't wind up beating yourself up.

While computers and science have made it easier to determine our DNA, so far, we cannot predict the date of our own demise. Would you really want to know? Meanwhile, don't assume there will always be time to see that childhood friend. Do it now, so you won't be sorry later.

(Author's note: I just reread this as I posted it on the new site. Funny, can't remember the exact date I wrote it, or when we lost her. Still, feeling haven't changed. If anything, it's more true today.)

######