Why is it that we fail to connect with old friends and extended family members until someone passes away? I have always thought it is more important to make time for others now, than to wait.
Several years ago I randomly thought of a gentleman who served as a mentor to many of us at the university. Even though on paper I outranked him, Terry was one of those people to whom you looked up. Respected. Listened carefully to what he had to say. He had retired a year or so previously and I had not spoken to him since that time. I was busy, I would tell myself. One day I finally contacted the leadership in his department, asking if there might be an email address or phone number I could use to reach out. I was informed that he had died just a few days before. I was upset with myself. I would never be able to tell him how much I learned from him and the impact he made. I vowed at that time that whenever I think of a person, regardless of how random, I stop what I am doing and reach out, right then if possible. Or at least that same day.
In that vein I have made a point to occasionally contact people who have made a difference in my life – friends and family.
After losing my mother, I continue to contact her siblings – my aunts and uncles. One such uncle was especially fun – always laughing. He had that big booming laugh that my maternal grandfather had. Full of life and love for his family, if I hadn’t reached out to him, he would call me. He spoke for only a couple of minutes. No long, drawn-out conversations were necessary. Just a quick call. One day not long ago I was in a meeting, so my phone went to voice mail. His message went something like this: “Hey Cynthia. This is your uncle Campbell. I just wanted to let you know I haven’t forgotten you. I hope you haven’t forgotten me. Okay. Love you. Bye.” It was such a cheerful, cute message I saved it.
Then a few weeks ago, I received a call saying that he was in the ICU, having had a car accident. He passed away about ten days later. The youngest of the five siblings, all in their 90s, he was the second to go in a year’s time. We all gathered in Memphis to put him to final rest.
As a military veteran, a lovely, timed-to-the-minute ceremony, was held in the rotunda of the impressive Western Tennessee Veterans Cemetery. Bagpipes played. Army personnel tended his ashes and the U.S. flag which was presented to his wife. A 21-gun salute rang through the air. It was both beautiful and touching.
Later that day, a celebration of life dinner was held at his favorite bar-be-que restaurant. Having met with family the night before at my aunt and uncle’s home, and then at the hotel where we all stayed, we deepened our connections and heard stories from his friends. I ensured I had contact information for each cousin who attended and then created a group txt so we could easily stay in touch.
The eight-hour drive home was filled with conversation and ideas. Luckily, my sister had gone with me, so we were able to chat about the weekend. We even talked about our paternal side of the family and how we had all gathered at my brother’s celebration of life a year-and-a-half ago. Now that we are the “top generation” of our family, we are more aware of the time we have left and how we will spend it.
Once again, my thoughts turn to one of my affirmations. Live each day as if it were your last. It may be.
Silver Sage Sisters 