• No Time To Waste

The cake stared at me balancing in the hands of my sister-in-law.

“Make a wish” she urged

I closed my eyes and did.

“What is it? A big wish as you turn 40”.

“That I will be 50.”

My mind went to that moment just a few days earlier when I had been given the news. When the nurses left to prepare for the next test, I had bargained with God for more time to raise my kids, time to get them ready.

How much time was that?

I asked for 10 years but settled for 5 if that is all I could have. Would I make it to 45?

Blowing the candles for a wish of 10 years seemed like a big wish.

I wished away.

Time is uncertain. I might make it to 50 or I might get run over by a truck tomorrow. We don’t know.

This morning a woman came into my office. She is an old acquaintance I had met under different circumstances. Years ago, she’d make my drink at a local restaurant. Now still beautiful and young, much too young to face this she inquired on her benefits as she faces a trail. A trail, a medical non proven ambiguity that might buy her more time.

It got me thinking how life changes so rapidly. How we don’t own more than a moment. Yet we waste the moment. Many moments.

How will it be if I wake up one morning and find out the one I love is gone or…if I’m gone. Will they miss me? Will they regret not talking to me last?

A friend told me recently that I am “an effort girl”. I wasn’t always. I didn’t ask anyone to stay, I didn’t try more than my share. I didn’t take “crap” from anyone. “You don’t like it, leave” kind of thing. Friends could come and friends could go. Loves would be forgotten and replaced.

Until now. Maybe an unforeseen gift of adversity, a reward of facing mortality more clearly than others, I don’t want to waste moments.

I have, but I don’t want to anymore.

I don’t want to get to the end of my life realizing I wasted a chance to love someone, to have them in my life, to walk with them on the beach, to watch dolphins, to watch a sunset, to help them be happy, to be happy.

I don’t want to realize I wasted life.

Why So Soon?

There are still many things I don’t get even now when I think of you. Some bother me like a pebble in my shoe, others make me smile.

If I allowed myself the time and space, you come back again.

How we laughed! We laughed like nobody does over the simplest of things. You made everything fun, well most everything. Sometimes I laughed because our plans didn’t work out and I’d laugh at our stupidity. Like the time in the rain, running with the ice cream. Precious.

And we hurt each other too. Like few do. Why? Did you ever understand why, did you ever question why?
But we did, fiercefully, mercilessly.

There was something about you that made you different but I never quiet knew what. Or maybe I never wondered until you were no longer there. Was it your smile? Or that look in your eyes when you didn’t know what the hell I was talking about? I can still hear your voice, deep, strong but I can’t remember your laughter.

I can’t.

I can still remember that night in late January when I walked out of your car and out of your life. I remember your eyes in the dark. Was I the only one crying? No, I know I wasn’t.

Why did I choose January to leave after that wonderful New Year’s we had? You didn’t try to stop me; you knew you couldn’t stop me.

Why did I leave then with such urgency? I didn’t want to wait anymore as if I were running out of time but I had the rest of my life left to wait if I wanted, why didn’t I wait for you? I was young, maybe too young to make a decision that marked my life and yours.

Do you blame me? Have you blamed me?

I have.

I saw you again. You have grayed. I have too but chemicals do wonders for me! You looked at me and smiled. Was it me you smiled at? You left much too quick and I didn’t get a chance to say…I don’t know what I would have said.

Why did you leave with such urgency? You have the rest of your life left.

(based on a true story with fictional addings)

Of Pens and Phones


There are notes that make us afraid to receive them.
There are notes and calls that give chills of uncertainty.
There are notes that hurt deep down inside.
There are notes that leave tears of despair behind.
There are notes that tell time and love don’t go together.
There are notes we wish were never written.
There are notes we wish were never read.

There are notes and calls that destroy us.

There are notes and calls that evoke a smile when received.
There are notes that bring tears of joy.
Three are notes of forgiveness and appreciation.
There are notes that give hope, that tell it’ll be fine.
There are notes that tell time has not erased love.
There are notes that tell how much we are remembered.
There are notes that tell time has not erased us.
There are notes that tell we are missed.

There are notes and calls that give us hope.
There are notes that give us happiness.

Gimme my Coffee, Ma'am

I was an hour late but maybe it was too early for her.

I ordered my coffee medium cinnamon, cream only, a wheat bagel and a ½ dozen donuts, the donuts were not for me, mind you.

"One donut?"

" No, half dozen"

" Half dozen bagels?"

" No, one bagel. Half dozen donuts."

" How many bagels?"

The Manager in the back came to the rescue, gave me my goodies and nicely instructed the girl at the register on how to ring up my order since she was keying it incorrectly.

“Sorry about all of that”, the Manager said.

“It’s not a problem, not at all,” I said with a smile.

I picked up my coffee and heard the girl mumbled something. I smiled at her and said

“It’ll be fine, you’ll get it soon”.

Then her mumbling became more audible.

“It is Dunkin Donuts, this is a joke”.

I squinted my eyes as we do when we try to hear better. I bit my tongue wanting to tell her:

“Girl, you have a hard life ahead of you in the workforce”

Or those who work with her will.

One thing I thank my mother for is the pride installed in any work I do regardless of what it is. I find it difficult to work with people who don’t have that pride. That is the reason why our race, Celebrate Life Half Marathon, is so successful; the partner I work with, takes the same pride in the work that I do.

Success is not an accident, someone said to me once. And if that girl with that attitude makes it in the rat race, it would be by accident.

She might be fine after all. Maybe it was too early, I should have given her my cup of coffee.

• 
  When Is The End Welcome?
  

I don’t entertain thoughts about death. Death might entertain thoughts about me but I don’t. I would never take my own life. I work hard to keep the one I have. I treasure life, the life I have.

When I was seventeen and living the hell and fear of my stepfather, I remember telling a friend “I understand why someone would want to stop living” but understanding it, didn’t mean wanting to end it.

And while facing a hard break up, I thought my life worthless without the person I loved, but I didn’t want to take my own life.

I lack the courage to end my life or maybe I still have courage to live it.

Is death ever welcome?

I have wondered if a person with a terminal illness will ever come to terms with their fate and if they will see death as a door they are going to go through with no fights. Is it ever a welcome relief, not feared but welcome?

Not long ago, I experienced severe pain. The pain was unbearable and would render me useless. I had it most of the time -24/7 - with frequent peaks. My company had recently moved 1 ½ hour away from home and while driving my friend would sit on the phone day after day to make sure I made it to work. Very simple, if the pain which resembled severe contractions came while driving I would have to pull over to throw up and often call to be picked up.

Life is so relative. Back then, when I felt good meant that I had pain but was not throwing up or unable to function.

This inexplicable condition went on for 6 months. In the middle of the night, I would escape to the living room so my kids wouldn’t hear my moaning or be awaken by the light in the bathroom every time I had to use it. My dog, Porkchop, didn’t get any sleep; he would wake up every time I got up to throw up.

It was difficult to plan anything. Any social activity had to be cancelled on the onset of pain. Having dinner was an event. I would park the car on the top of the hill to my house and allow the pain to overtake me before coming home. Once home, I would tell my kids I had a hard day at work and needed to rest. They never believed it. The pain was evident in my face.

Those nights awake in pain made me reconsider the quality of life I was lacking. What good was life if I couldn’t enjoy it? I was a burden to all. The doctors were baffled by my condition and that only made matters worse. If they couldn’t diagnose me, they couldn’t cure me. But I still didn’t want to end my life.

One night in the summer of 2005 I felt relatively good. By some strange coincidence, I insisted on visiting a friend that night. Later in her house I would collapse on her bathroom from severe pain.

Used to my pain, when calling my husband I had to tell him this time was different. “You need to come”. I said.

Facedown on the bathroom floor cold tiles, I held my friend’s hand and asked her to pray. She did and squeezed my hand. 911 was called.

As I was taken on the stretcher, I held my son’s hand. “I love you”, I whispered.

The pain was unbearable.

Hours later, while being prep for an emergency surgery, my husband awaited with me. He seemed calm. I was calm.

He had contacted my family but they wouldn’t make it on time before the surgery and the surgery…couldn’t wait.
We didn’t talk much. I had not much to say, neither did he. There was only one worry in my mind, I had not seen my daughter and if anything made me want to live was to see her again and not leave her with the memory of no good bye.

But other than that, I felt ready. Ready to end the pain. I was not afraid, I was not resentful. I was tired. I did not want to fight for a life that was no longer pleasant to me or those around me.

I felt calm.

If those were my final hours, they were spent with the people I loved the most except for my daughter’s absence. That in itself made the end of my life good.

That night marked a milestone in my life. If I had not insisted on seeing my friend that night, I would not have been so close to a hospital. I had not been so close to the ones I loved.

It also showed me that when the time comes, we are ready and there is no fear. There is calmness. There is love.

I had much love that night. Maybe that is what kept me alive.

"What's Love Got To Do With It?"

• I had 5 missed calls. I called her back.

"I don’t know what to do, he treats me so badly,” She said in between sobs.

“Why do you allow it? Why do you stay?” I said in spite of myself. I knew the answer.

“Because I love him."

What is love when it’s so one sided? I wondered.

“He treats you badly. He is so mean to you.” I said trying to mirror her words.

"We had such a good time last week, a few hours”.

How sad, I thought, that a few good hours would stand out as an exception and not the norm. Why does a person hold on to a love that is turned abusive and hurtful?

I knew she had vowed in tears many times to be over only to come back every time the absence of the loved one dented her resolve. Was the fear of never loving that way again what maintained her, sustained her in a state of constant mourning for a love she didn’t have in the capacity she so much wanted?

She loved him but...

She was fighting a pointless battle. How many times would she break before shattering?

Watching my friend ache, I didn’t want to understand the other person, I didn’t want to analyze the reasons that lay behind the actions, it was not important. Not anymore. I had done enough of that with her. This time it did not matter. What mattered was the end result, what the actions did to her and that it would never improve. What was important was that my friend hurt each time and she was the only one responsible for her own suffering, only she could stop it.

“In time there will be one action that will take you beyond that level and then you’ll let go. You’ll know it’s time to let go.”

I hang up knowing my friend was nowhere near that place. She was still slaved to a love that no longer was.

It would be a long way before she could regain her dignity, something she had lost along the way. There would be many more calls.

Getting It

Exasperated and tired, I jumped in my car with 15 minutes left to get the umbrella all spectators at the NYS Cross Country had brought with them.

I yanked the seat belt so hard it locked in place. I yanked again and it locked more not yielding one inch. Cursing under my breath I released my grip. It released its. We were good. I drove off.

I slammed the door to my car and ran to the store jumping to the automatic door. I waited and it didn’t open. The door to my right had opened and closed twice already. I took a deep breath and stepped back allowing the mechanism to reset itself; it opened.

I heard the voice of my philosophy class teacher years ago: when you hit it, it hits you. When you hurt it, it hurts you.

So play nice.

Nothing good comes out of anger, mistreatment, resentment. Pushing and shoving. It’s the simplest rule of thumb; treat others like you want to be treated because the people being pushed and shoved often are not aware of the rage directed at them.

Hurting fosters more hurting.

There are consequences to our actions. When we look at the main causes of our unhappiness, or the main reasons why we are lonely, we don’t need to look any further than ourselves.

So play nice.

What has been done can not be undone. But the future can be lived right.

11 Hours and One Show

She actually invited me to attend. I felt honored…She never invites me. I knew I had to be there no matter what. I showed up after driving in the rain for hours.

I was in the back at first and she couldn’t see me. Well, truth be told, I couldn’t see her either until she spotted me. There was that light smile almost wanting to hide it in front of her friends and then a bigger one and a hug. She was glad to see me, I was glad to be there.

I knew it was going to be a 10 hour drive if things went well for a glimpse of her. I was not wrong.

I waited in the rain under my umbrella until her wave went. I got to see her at the 800 meter mark. She was way in the back, almost last. I closed my eyes and prayed she wouldn’t despair. On my way there she had called. “I’m a bit anxious”. I know, I said. Think of it as another race, just one more race. Give it what you have today. No less.

I walked over to the final stretch and waited with plenty of time. A friend coincidentally was the photographer of the event and she promised to try to get good shots of her. I waited…and waited. Then the leader showed up, soon after the pack. I feared seeing her at the end, desperate, but suddenly I saw her, she had moved up to the middle of the pack. There she is! I screamed as if everyone knew who she was. It was raining steady by then and I wiped my face several times, but wait, I had an umbrella, what was I wiping?

She passed by my side with exhaustion clear in her face. Go Bebe! I yelled. And off she went to complete the last 200 meters of her 5K.

It wasn’t her best time but it didn’t matter. She was competing in the New York State Cross County Championship with the best and she was one of them.

And I was one of them mothers, really really proud.

11 hours later and two cups of coffee. It was so worth it.