Inevitability

This past week I got news that three people earned their wings. The first one hit me hard. A high school friend, someone who went in similar directions in the culinary world. We “talked” through Messenger. January was the last time.

My memories of him became vivid.

Driving around, grabbing lunch off campus.

Cruising the Fort Lauderdale strip.

Skipping class to go to the beach.

A friend, a neighbor from back in the day, lost a loved one. I remember him. I remember the family: three boys and one girl. Flashes of images from growing up on that street zoomed in. A red Firebird, windows open, music thumping.

A simpler time…

It’s funny. I see people on social and think, when did they get old?

Then I catch my reflection.

I am… well seasoned.

We all fight the biggest losing battle we have: time.

It’s a constant reminder that we have a choice, to let time take us over, or to leave our mark. Life is the ultimate video game. We all talk about second chances, but how many of us are actually using that “extra life” to make one count?

I still don’t know what kind of death is worse, the unexpected, or the slow goodbye.

I was in my late 20s when I lost my grandmother, Nana Gert. She didn’t drive, so once a week I’d head down and take her grocery shopping. One day, while listening to Bocelli, we got onto the subject of death. At the time, she was in the middle of an eleven-year battle with cancer. I told her when it was her time, to go be with Papa.

In a cruel way, sickness gave me time. Time to say everything I wanted to say. Time to spend real moments together. Time to create memories that still live with me.

My two grandfathers’ deaths were different. Sudden. Unexpected. I was left only with memories, one of them plagued me for a long time. I carried guilt for years. His death taught me something, though. It taught me to spend time with his wife as cancer slowly took her from us.

We have an old saying: “Time heals all wounds.”

That’s not true.

The saying should be: “Time numbs the pain.”

For the survivors, the loved ones left wondering, questioning, the emptiness never truly goes away. Nothing replaces the love that person gave you.

I guess today I realize this:

Make as many memories with your loved ones as possible.

Stop saying, “We have to spend more time together,” or “We need to keep in touch.”

Just pick up the phone.

Text.

Call.

Show up.

Make memories.

Inevitability, we can make memories before time wins.