I have been doing a lot of thinking today. My co-worker lost her battle with cancer last night. She is survived by her two daughters, her husband and her dog Timmy. The funny thing about Timmy is that she didn’t want him. But the two of them grew thick as thieves. I could see the love in her eyes and hear it in her voice when she talked about the white pooch.
The passing of my co-worker has not fully absorbed yet. Her funeral is Saturday. I am sure when I see her daughters, it will hit me. I cannot fathom how they must feel and think of my own daughters.
Today overflowed with much thinking. What is important? What can wait? What do I regret? What will I regret? Hard questions that were left empty as I cursed myself for all the times I was short with her; wrapped up in personal demons. The questions fade as life continues and the day goes on.
But here is the one thing that will not escape my head. Her daughters. My daughters. How I forget to say “I love you” all too often because I take for granted that tomorrow will always be there. How I’m quick to tell my youngest not to forget to clean up her dishes and not sleep too late. How I give my older daughter hell for being irresponsible at the age of 21. I was nowhere near as responsible as she is when I was 21.
If I fight with my boyfriend and go to bed angry, he’ll be there in the morning and we’ll get to talk about it over coffee and say the obligatory “sorry’s” and “never again’s”.
I have learned that the day is a gift filled with red lights, moody children and spotting a deer in the park. All the people I see and talk to in a day, the cars I hear roar by, the rain I feel on my face… it is all a privilege.
I am guilty of taking much for granted. Time is precious, as are my loved ones.