(front door opens)
Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Dad, I found something walking home from the bus today.”
Me: “Yes, what’s that dear?”
LMT: “I found this.” (shoves leaf-wrapped and very dead mouse within inches of my face)
Me: “Oh my…”
LMT: “It was on the front porch. Last week we found a dead bird.”
Me: “Yeah, things die. We only live for a while, and animals live even shorter lives.”
LMT: (heavy sigh)
LMT: “We buried the bird in the yard, so I’m going to go bury the mouse, too.”
Me: “OK. If that’s what you want.”
LMT: “I think that’s what she would want.”
LMT: (walks out somberly)
Me: (to myself) “It doesn’t get any easier, kiddo.”
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.
— Mary Elizabeth Frye
We lost a very good friend this past weekend, quite suddenly.
Losing a dear friend suddenly is never easy, but losing a distant friend is hard.
So many well-intentioned promises to visit more often. So many opportunities wasted.
Your condolences, your thoughts and prayers are nice. Thank you. But this time, do me a favor — no, do yourself a favor — and reach out to an old friend you haven’t seen in awhile. Talk. Laugh. Relive some glory days. It will be good for you both.
We don’t have our friends forever, folks.
Use the little time you have.
Be that guy.
Take the initiative.
We don’t have them forever.