Treat
this day as the first and last day of your life. My brother-in-law opened the
bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package.
"This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He
discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade
and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on
it was still attached. “Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at
least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special
occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion."
He
took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were
taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment,
then he jammed the drawer shut and turned to me. “Don't ever save anything for
a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion."
I
remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I
helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected
death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the
Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things
that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had
done without realizing that they were special.
I'm
still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more
and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing
about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and
friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should be
a pattern of experience to savour, not endure.
I'm
trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them. I'm not “saving"
anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event--such as
losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom. I wear
my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look
prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without
wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware
stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going
friends'.
"Someday"
and “one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary.
If
it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.
I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she wouldn't be
here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called
family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former
friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she
would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favourite food. I'm guessing
--I'll never know.
It's
those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my
hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was
going to get in touch with - someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain
letters that I intended to write - one of these days. Angry and sorry that I
didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them.
I'm
trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add
laughter and lustre to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell
myself that it is special.
Every day, every minute, every breath
truly is...a gift from God.
source unknown
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