My uncle, the one who lost his wife and daughter, said something to my mother the other day which she passed on to me. It is hauntingly true for all of us, but all the more so for those of us for whom loss has reared its ugly head. Reflecting on his loss and on the future, he said that we can’t assume that there will be a tomorrow.
How often do you live this way, assuming that tomorrow will always come, that it will always be there to hold your hopes and dreams? I know that I live that way. It’s apparent in the current state of my house, which for a week now I have put off cleaning until “tomorrow.” It’s apparent in the way that I make weekend plans, never wanting to commit to anything, and thus, often not enjoying shared times with friends and family. It’s apparent in the way that I approach even my career, doing a good job now, but always planning what I will do in the future.
What if there was no tomorrow? How would that change the way that I lived today? I was reflecting on that as I went about my day today. After sleeping late, I walked down the hill to grab a cup of coffee and a scone, and then took in a lacrosse game with my uncle and cousin. I went to a movie with a friend, and enjoyed dinner with her sweet little family, and now I’m home, cleaning and reflecting. This was a day well-lived, and full of simple pleasures: the morning in bed, the warm cup of coffee on an overcast spring day, the company of my relatives, the joy and utter abandon of college athletes playing in what could be their last game, an afternoon filled with great and honest conversation with a dear friend, and a little bit of responsible living mixed in. These are the days when I reflect on how happy I am to be here, to be alive. These are the days when I thank God for the gift of one more day, and these are the days that I try to bottle for the times when I get so caught up in the stress of daily life that I forget to truly live, love and enjoy each moment.