Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda
I lost a dear friend recently. It was unexpected. The worst kind of loss to process because I didn’t see it coming. There was no time to emotionally prepare myself, so it was a shock when her sister called me with the gut-wrenching news. All I remember saying was, “No, no, no, fuck no!” I don’t like to swear in my blogs, but that is how I felt. My reaction. My truth. I missed the chance to have our last conversation, and it was my fault. I was getting ready to check out at the store. I didn’t want to be rude to the store owner, nor did I want to cut her short. I felt it was best to call back later when I had time to talk. That never happened. She died shortly after she called me. Was I the last person she tried calling that afternoon? Did she have a subconscious inkling and wanted to somehow say goodbye? I will never know. What I do know is that she left me a bittersweet farewell gift: her voicemail. I listened to her message. Her voice was different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew something was off. I should have called her back right away, but it was nearing dinner time when I got home, so duty first. Fuck duty, too. Time waits for no one. All the shoulda, coulda, woulda thoughts won’t bring her back.
A Sad Forecast
It was a rainy, windy Saturday. The sky purged herself upon us most of the day. There was no way to wait it out or run between the raindrops, so I just accepted it and tried to minimize the soaking. She mentioned the weather in her message. Maybe her our angels knew what was to come and were crying for us. Our loss, their gain. Is that how it works? I take some solace in hoping that she is reunited with her beloved father and brother. She missed them so. We spoke of them often in our heart-to-heart talks. I try to visualize her free of her own suffering. She had multiple health concerns. Her life was never the same after most of her leg had to be amputated due to medical complications. She was always a free spirit and constantly on the move. Being in a wheelchair robbed her of the freedom and independence she once cherished, but it never compromised her loving, generous heart towards people. I always admired how mindful she was of other people’s lives, both in good times and in bad. She always made time to remember everyone. Her style of giving was unparalleled. She was a unique woman for sure. Our friendship made me a better person. I am grateful for her constant support over the years especially as others gave up on me and discarded me like old news. She was a special soul. We lost a good one that day, no doubt in my mind
Farewell
Her last words to me will be my forever gift. She told me she loved me. I loved her too. I know she knew that, but I wish I could have told her one last time. With Thanksgiving kicking off the holiday season, I felt it relevant to weave this into my November blog. I will spare you with preachy words or a laundry list of all the people and things I am most grateful for at this point in my life. What I will say instead is that her death serves as a harsh reminder that life is fragile and unpredictable. You don’t get second or third chances when death knocks on your door or one of a loved one. You can’t say what you never said because you were waiting for better circumstances. You can’t undo any suffering you may have caused or say you are sorry if that is what you were supposed to do. You can’t hold them close, hear their voice, or pick up the phone and call them. You can’t assume there will be a tomorrow, next month, or next year. Life and death don’t work that way. Yet, we are all guilty of falling for that false narrative, aren’t we?
Make it Count
So, make that call. Write that letter. Take time to visit. Say you’re sorry or I love you or both if that is what needs to be said. Express the feelings you’ll regret if you never get the chance to say them. Tell your friends and family what they mean to you. Say it often. Show up. Be present in each other’s lives and be grateful for one another. We only get one chance. Make it count.
