In the past couple of years, saying ‘life is short’ has become a mantra-like line for me. But my saying that life is short did not only mean living life to the fullest or taking every opportunity, every chance, every little thing that might make life – yours and that of others linked to you – a bit more meaningful.
When I say ‘life is short,’ I also refer to living day-by-day, as if it would be your last day on earth; therefore, nothing should be left undone.
And then the reality of irony hit me: life, indeed, could be very short…
One busy day, someone close to you is alive and breathing, having just sent a PowerPoint document following a request for a few moments to chat.
Then another day not long after, that same person dies.
Then you realize: you have not acknowledged receipt of the piano bar presentation, nor have you even given a reason for declining the chat.
(It was to “show” a just-acquired high-tech gadget meant for someone who could no longer use tongue and vocal chords; cancer had eaten away those, and was surgically removed, amongst other places in the body, excised, where the dreaded C cells had lodged).
Sad, so sad.
You failed to reach out to a dying friend, a friend who had reached out to you many times in the past.
Life, indeed, is short and should not, must not be taken for granted – especially when someone close needs just a little of your time.
Sad, so very sad.
And now, you have to deal with the things you should have done but did not…
5 comments:
everything's gloomy here. the image, the words. cheer up, madam. :)
KC,
Death equals gloom, but only for those left behind. The deceased, in my belief, went to a happy, conflict-free place, a place of eternal bliss.
The image in the post is bleak, I agree. It was taken round about the same time, but a few years previous, when my friend passed away, nearly winter.
The image was taken from the big window of the house of the deceased, with a view of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
Thanks for the cheer-up note, but I guess it will take time before I can forgive myself for not granting a few minutes phone call to a friend who I didn't know was dying.
Wordsmith:
This one's quite touching. That view from your friend's window reminds me of a long driving trip I had one February day.
I found myself driving along Highway 395. I felt hungry so I stopped in a small California town called INDEPENDENCE. Despite how small it is, the place was a revelation to me. People are extremely friendly and laid back. Surprising to find at least 3 big restaurants and two bistros, apart from the usual MacDonalsd's and Wendy's. And of course, part of the attraction of the town were the Filipinos. They're always there even in those god-forsaken places. What's more, they're there with a ready smile for everyone. I just love these Filipinos. They remind me of the rural folks in the Bicol region.
I had lunch in one of the big restaurants and the camaraderie of the townsfolk was truly contagious. I chatted with the waitresses and the other customers there as if we've all known each other for a long time.
After lunch, I continued my trip and I kept telling myself that Independence would look really nice in a movie, perhaps, one of those Stephen King small town tale. The lonely highway is lined by the Sierra Nevada in the distance. It was a sunny winter day and the view was spectacular.
When I reached closer to the Death Valley, it began to snow. It came down so heavily that in a matter of few minutes, the surroundings were so white, and the contrasting green and red trunk of the evergreen trees looked postcard perfect.
Your friend must had loved the same view I enjoyed of the Sierra Nevada. It must had hurt her to love and enjoy life only to be taken away in a wink of an eye.
Yes, indeed, life is truly short – no matter how long you live.
CoolCanadian,
Thank you for dropping by. It was a pleasure and a lovely surprise, no BS. You should 'see' how Glady and I exchanged virtual high fives when she sent me an IM to say you have visited her blog.
Thank you, too, for the imagery of Independence. You have a subtle way with words that leaves vivid images in the mind.
As for my friend who passed away last November, yes, he had enjoyed the view of the Sierra Nevada mountains from his Shingle Springs home -- winter, spring, summer, autumn -- for decades. Summer views were best but the last snowstorm that blanketed his property, when he was alive, was postcard-pretty.
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