--Anna Quindlen
It was just another manic Monday for Nancy, Cheryl, Valerie, Kathleen, Gilda, Elizabeth, and Patricia. Just another business trip, another swing on the flying trapeze. Children were kissed and sent off to school; babies were left with sitters; spouses were reminded about soccer practice, the casserole in the freezer, the laundry that needed to be picked up. Their day was frazzled or pleasant, successful or disappointing. Does it really matter? At the end of it, perhaps there was an opportunity to grab some small treat in the gift shop before boarding American Eagle commuter Flight 4148 to Chicago's O'Hare Airport. Waiting for them were loved ones eager to report on the day's happenings, cabs to catch, connections to make.
Instead, there were news bulletins, phone calls, disbelief, devastation, shock, pain, grief, hearts broken, dreams dashed. Nancy (forty-eight), Cheryl (forty-four), Valerie (forty-four), Kathleen (forty-seven), Gilda (forty-three), Elizabeth (thirty-seven) and Patricia (forty-two) never made it home. For, as the plane was descending, the inconceivable occurred. All the women perished in a fiery crash, along with sixty-one other souls. In their final moments, did they realize they weren't going to make it? What were their last thoughts?
It certainly wasn't the deal made or lost or how hassled their day had been. Surely their last thoughts were Real. Maybe the faces of those they loved pushed away the fear. Maybe there was no time for regrets. I hope so. I pray so.
If we are alive, we cannot escape loss. Loss is a part of real life. "Have you ever thought, when something dreadful happens, a moment ago things were not like this; let it be then not now, anything but now?" the English novelist Mary Stewart asks. "And you try and try to remake then, but you know you can't. So you try to hold the moment quite still and not let it move on and show itself."
Today might be tough for you. You might not want the next moment to show itself, to reveal the twists and turn of life's mystery. But at least you have it. You still have life. A choice as to how you will live this precious day.
Don't wish it away. Don't waste it. For the love of all that's holy, redeem one hour. Hold it close. Cherish it. Above all, be grateful for it. Let your thanksgiving rise above the din of disappointment - opportunities lost, mistakes made, the clamor of all that has not yet come.
And if today is so horrendous that the gift doesn't seem worth acknowledging; if you can't find one moment to enjoy, one simple pleasure to savor, one friend to call, one person to love, one thing to share, one smile to offer; if life is so difficult you don't want to bother living it to the fullest, then don't live today for yourself.
Live it for Nancy, Cheryl, Valerie, Kathleen, Gilda, Elizabeth, and Patricia.
-Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance - A Daybook of Comfort and Joy©1995
This last weekend was one of the Family Reunion picnics many of us enjoy at this time of year. It occurred to my bride that the generations are moving on, and that we have replaced (or is it "have become"?) the previous generation as they have moved on from where we are now at - I hope that made sense... Anyway, that realization was a big one for her, and it made her think of what her Mom went through, just to get to the point where she (Nancy) now finds herself.
Sometimes we understand the lessons of losses in our lives better when we view them through the eyes of someone who has a great deal more experience at losses and lessons than we do. Read the following from Nadine Staff, (age 85), of Louisville, Kentucky:
"If I had my life to live over again,
I would try to make more mistakes next time...
I'd try not to be so damned perfect;
I'd relax more, I'd limber up,
I'd be sillier than I've been on this trip;
In fact, I know of very few things I'd take quite so seriously;
I'd be crazier ... and I'd certainly be less-hygenic;
I'd take more chances ... I'd take more trips ...
I'd climb more mountains ... I'd swim more rivers ...
And I'd watch more sunsets;
I'd burn more gasoline,
I'd eat more ice cream - and fewer beans;
I'd have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones,
"You see, I was one of those people who lived prophylactically and sensibly,
hour-after-hour and day-after-day;
Oh, that doesn't mean I didn't have my moments,
But if I had it to do all over, I'd have more of those moments,
In fact, I'd try to have nothing but wonderful moments, side-by-side.
"I was one of those people who never went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat and a parachute;
If I had it to do all over again, I'd travel lighter next time.
"If I had my life to live all over again,
I'd start barefoot earlier in the spring
and I'd stay that way later in the fall;
I'd play hooky a lot more;
I'd ride more merry-go-rounds, I'd pick more flowers,
I'd hug more children,
I'd tell more people that I loved them,
"If I had my life to live over again;
But, you see, I don't."
Michael
email: Michael@N-Spire.com
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