Life is Short but Sweet for Certain
I have a ton of these tips and I wanted to write them all
down and make a “thirty and flirty” fun list. But two days before I turned 30, I got a phone call that my
friend Chris had a brain aneurysm and he died.
The hospital was keeping him on
life support though, because he was an organ donor. “He’ll help a lot of
people” they said. Like that was somehow
supposed to make his loved ones feel better.
He was in his 30’s. Not old by any standards. In great health, just started a new job,
happily married, and even more happily a new dad to his 18 month old baby boy.
The news shook me. I
couldn’t drive when I got the call. I
had to pull over. I kept thinking about his wife. They were married for 5 years and only in the
first few chapters of their story together. I thought about his son and his family. I thought about what a hard worker he was and
what a good person he was. I thought
about how every time I saw him, he always had a smile on his face and a joke to
tell. I thought about how life got busy
and we always hugged goodbye and promised we’d catch up soon… but we hadn’t
made it happen yet. I thought about how life
seemed so unfair.
I have dealt with death. I have no grandparents left and lost two
uncles. I’m 30 for God’s sake. None of us have made it this far unscathed by
death. But when it is the death of a peer, I have come to accept, and sometimes
expect, the culprit to be a car accident or a drug overdose. Those things that are God awful in their own
right; but not unusual for my generation.
But a freak health incident? A brain
aneurysm? That’s’ not supposed to happen to us.
We’re still young. If we work out
and eat healthy, those things don’t apply to us. We’re still in control. We’re still invincible.
Or so we thought.
I went to his house the day I found out. I wanted to do something for his wife—my
friend too. She hugged me when I came in
the house and she congratulated me on my engagement.
Can you imagine? A woman who in her own personal hell, minding
her manners and giving proper salutations. Or maybe she was just trying to feel
normal for a second? Either way, I
respected it and admired her. There is
no “right way” to deal with death.
She hugged me and told me how happy she was for me. It made me feel awful, and yet I knew she
really meant it. Then she looked at me
and her eyes welled up, “Even though I know…” then her voice trailed off, “It’s
like, I’m just waiting for him to come home from work.”
I hugged her knowing that nothing I could do or say could
ease her pain. Life was unfair. This is
how the cookie crumbled. This was the
hand she was dealt. It is what it is.
We use lots clichés and old adages, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t ease our pain or make us accepting
of his death. There was nothing she
could do. And yet rather than fall apart, she pulled it together, just in time
for her perfect little son to toddle into the kitchen.
Then I saw strength. The
kind that only exists in the strongest of women and the toughest of mothers… she
held her tears in and smiled at her son. “Do you want a drink buddy?” It was as if she wasn’t crying. She switched into “Mommy-Mode” and she was
utterly selfless.
I watched her graciously navigate through the kitchen, past
all the food trays people had brought over and around the flowers and fruit. Simple offerings that we as people give when we
don’t know what to do or say, but want to help.
Selfishly I was happy the baby had come in. I didn’t feel like I was even strong enough to
think about what had happened to Chris, and he was only my friend. This was her husband.
I thought about how Chris had made this woman
a wife and a widow and a warrior.
As the baby made his way out of the kitchen she looked back
to me. “If I have one piece of advice
for you in marriage, it’s not to sweat the small stuff. Because life is short and you never know…” she
shrugged and began to well up again.
I’ve heard that cliché a ton of times. I sang my heart out to the Dave Matthew’s line
and posted it to my facebook profile and AIM away message all through my youth,
“Life is short but sweet for certain.” I
had written it hundreds of times on notebooks, reading it over and over again; but this was the first time it struck me. In the context of my friend’s kitchen, who was
now a widow in her 30’s, I truly understood.
Her words hung in the air and they stuck to my heart.
I didn’t respond. I
just hugged her again, except this time it felt like she was comforting me. Death does that though, it makes everything
feel backwards.
So screw the list of silly adages. At least for today (maybe I’ll write that
another time.) For now, I think the most
important thing we have to know by the time we turn 30 is, “not to sweat the
small stuff, because life is short.”
Perspective on that one sentence can change how you respond
to a cranky child, a barking pet, a traffic jam, and a problem at work. It’s the difference between a quick hug, a bear
hug and a good squeeze. The difference
between hanging up the phone and taking a moment to say “I love you.” It’s what reminds us that life is truly a gift,
death doesn’t discriminate or care about age, and we have to seize our happy moments.
So, I will start this decade, not only with a heavy heart for
the loss of a friend (because my heart is heavy), but I will also start it with
gratitude in my soul and perspective on my side… thanks to Chris.
*And Chris is surely laughing that he finally made it into
one of my blogs :)
SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG
“Life is short but sweet for certain.” Read it again. “Life
is short but sweet for certain.” Take it in.
Breathe it in and out. Hold onto
it and live it.
xoxo
Lana
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xoxo
Lana