Every day that I wake up, I feel very fortunate! Life is such a precious commodity, and yet so many of us have difficulty truly enjoying life to its fullest.
A couple of years ago, my mother's brother passed away. I had not talked to him in over a year. And had not seen him in nearly five. When I was growing up, I saw him very little and only knew of him by mother's stories of her childhood. He was in ill health for several months prior to his death. And I did not take the time to go out to Kansas to visit with him.
Several months ago, I received the dreaded call that my mother's last living sibling, my aunt Jane, had passed away quietly at her home. The last time I saw her was over five years ago when I went to her home in Mississippi and spent nearly three hours talking, laughing and reminiscing. For the past four years or so, she had been living in Kansas with her son. I had not gone to visit with her after she moved.
Today, I realize that there is no one left of either of my parents' immediate families except for one of my mother's brothers-in-law who is living in Washington state. I live in Florida. I haven't seen him in about five years. However, I have made it a habit to call him every so often to check on him and just visit.
I'm not a wealthy person, but most American's would think me successful and well off. But I'd trade everything I have for a few more minutes with those of my family who have gone on from this life. Sad that I learn this lesson at 64 rather than at 24. I now understand why my father absolutely insisted on taking his family with him at least once a year to the "old home place" in Mississippi.
As a kid, I hated those weeks during the summer when I, a sophisticated big city boy, had to endure cow dung, straw floors and out-houses. Yet, today, I'd gladly trade everything I have for an opportunity to sit down once again with my grandmother Sennett or with my grand father Wilson.
Because of my father, at least I have special memories of those wonderful people. I have memories of walking down an old dirt road to Scotty's Store, of calling the cows in for the evening, of sitting on the bank of a small pond with a fishing pole waiting for that first bite, and of sitting in the old country church singing old hymns while the pew slats pinched my bottom when I wiggled too much.
I guess that's why for the past five years, I have happily driven to Orlando from West Palm Beach every Saturday with my wife to spend the day with our grand-son. He won't have the same memories I have, but he'll have his own of me and his gramma. One day he'll look fondly on those trips to Universal Studios, Disney World, Sea World, Chuck-e-Cheeses, the zoo, and the "castle" park. And those will help sustain him as he grows older and faces the inevitable losses of life.
To live is to know the reality of death. And living means that every day holds its own wonderful possibilities of memories and impacts on our psyche. It's not the accomplishments we make at work, or the possessions we accumulate, but rather the interactions we have with other people that truly make the differences and give meaning to our lives. And in that understanding I find every reason to live life to its fullest with a deep gratitude for this wonderfully precious gift we know as life.
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