I have often wondered whether we would live our lives the
way we do now if we knew how much time each of us have left. Would we continue
in a routine existence only bothered about going through a day at a time? Would
we let go of all we are comfortable with and try to live life to the fullest?
Would we go insane knowing that we had only ‘x’ number of hours and spending
the rest of the time berating fate and getting confused as to what to do at
all? Or would we sit down and list all the things we ever wanted to do and go
about doing it in the time available? I do not know if I would have the courage
to go after what I want most if I knew when my time would be up. I probably
would since after a point I forget fear completely – especially when there is
literally nothing to lose.
But truly how many of us can plan for the time ahead that we
have? Daily life takes its toll – we frequently get lost in the details and
fail to see the big picture. When my father passed away ten years ago, we knew
it was coming but we still didn’t know when. Perhaps one of the hardest things
to do is attempt to act out a normal life when in reality you are screaming
inside – I wasn’t very successful I know – my father knew that my eyes reflected
hopelessness. I couldn’t hide it – I can’t hide most of my emotions now either.
The cancer happened and it took him away. I was left for
many years with the images of his illness – the images of happier times totally
escaped me. But the worst part was the long list of things I wanted to do for
my dad that I never got round to doing. I thought I had all the time in the
world. His life had always been one of incredible hard work and sacrifice. And he
was always smiling. How I wanted him to be proud of me! How I longed to show
him great places and make him try all kinds of exotic food - how I wanted to create new dishes with him
for he was so passionate about food but I didn’t have the time then and a few
years later he didn’t have any time left.
It is only when you lose someone important that you realize
that there were so many unfinished stories left to write – that all those times
when you said “alright, next time” precluded a next time that was never fated –
that the last words that you ever said were not the ones you would have wanted
to say if you knew you’d never have a second chance. I didn’t see my dad passing
away – he left my house a few days before that – and I so wish my last words to
him were “I love you” – instead they were banal and mundane and I didn’t even
wake up my infant son to let him kiss his grandfather one final goodbye.
Endings without closures haunt me too much. I can take anything if given the
chance to realize closure – its like the pain of a closed wound which is
healthier than the festering of an open one.
Never think you have enough time for later. If there is
anything you want to tell your loved ones now, do it. It always makes a
difference. If there is anything that you have always wanted to do for or with
them, do it now – there may not be a tomorrow every single time. We have only
so many hours...
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