Just One More Day

My Dad has cancer, and not a good kind. Not that there are any good kinds of cancer, but there are earlier stage cancers, more treatable cancers. He doesn't have one of those kinds. He has inoperable cancer. Two words you never want to hear together. Inoperable cancer.

Late last fall he developed a cough that wouldn't go away, so he went to see the doctor thinking he had a chest infection. Instead he has cancer.

He's had it for a long time and had no idea. He's always been pretty healthy. He's not obese, doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, has low blood pressure. He has regular check ups with his doctor, and gets his blood work done twice a year. In fact the last time he got his blood work done everything was so perfect the doctor asked him why he was there. Only it wasn't perfect.

It never even occurred to him that he had cancer.

That's the thing, we never think it's going to happen to us. Until it does.

One day your dad tells you he's had "a bit of a cough". And then suddenly you find yourself sitting beside him as the specialist explains that the tumour is inoperable.

My dad wanted to put a new roof on the house this spring, and replace some windows. Instead he will be recovering from radiation and chemo treatments.

We always think we have time to do the things we want to do. Until we don't or we can't.

Last week someone said to me, "He's 75, he's had a long life," as if somehow that is supposed to be comforting. It's not. They are right though, he has had a longish life. And as he says, he's still got his feet on the ground, he's not going anywhere yet (take that freaking cancer). Which is good because I'm not done arguing with him. I consider myself fortunate to have had my dad for as long as I have. I, of all people, know that is sadly often not the case. But it's still not long enough, it's not nearly long enough. Not long enough for him, or my mom, or my brothers, or his grandchildren or me.

It doesn't matter how old we are; 27, 43, 61, 75. There is never enough time with the people you love.

We never ever think it's going to happen to us. Until one day you get a cough. You have a seizure. You find a lump. Your door bell rings. And your life is irrevocably changed.

So often we put things off, we'll get to it tomorrow.  I'll call dad tomorrow, I've just been so busy with work. I'll send her a message tomorrow, I don't have time today. Not today buddy, I'm too tired. We'll go to the park tomorrow, I promise. We'll go for a walk at the old farm next weekend dad, if it's not raining.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

We always take for granted that tomorrow is going to come. And if we are lucky, it will.

But sometimes we aren't lucky.

Sometimes there are no more tomorrows.

And you'll never get to keep those promises or send those messages. And you won't get the chance to say I love you.

Please don't put off until tomorrow what you should do today.

Pick up the damn phone. Call your father, and your mother too. Nobody is too busy for the people that matter to them. Nobody. Tell them you love them, as often as you can. They need to know. And thank your parents for putting up with you all these years (I really didn't mean to talk so much, honest). You wouldn't be the person you are today if it wasn't for them. And make time for your friends. Send your friend that message that you just haven't gotten around to sending. Nobody deserves to be treated as an after thought. Get your ass off the couch and take your son to the park. And go for that walk at the old farm with your dad, the fresh air will do you both wonders.

Today you still have a chance. Don't waste it.

Because you truly never know when you'll find yourself wishing you had just one more day.

Sometimes the morning really doesn't know what the day will bring.

Trust me on that one, I know what I'm talking about.

I love you Daddyo (just in case you forgot in the last hour).


"The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected."~Robert Frost

The Things We Need To Say

When I was a kid, my mom would always tell me that time goes by a lot faster when you are older. I would always laugh (and probably roll my eyes) and tell her she was wrong. Then of course, I grew up and had kids of my own. And suddenly one day I realized that what she said was true. Time really does go by faster when you are older. Go figure, my mom actually knew what she was talking about. As painful as it was to do, I picked up the phone and called her and told her as much. I'm sure she didn't stop grinning for a month.

Even though I knew my mother was right, I didn't truly appreciate the value of time until after Dan died. It was then that I realized I had spent most of my adult life waiting for time to pass. Waiting for the next posting message. Waiting for the course to be over. Waiting for deployment to end. Waiting for the house to sell. Waiting for the kids to be out of diapers. Waiting for them to start school. It's very sobering when you realize you've spent most of your life waiting for your time to be gone.

Time that I will never, ever get back.

Sometimes you never realize the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.

I write (and speak) about time a lot. Because it is one of the most important lessons I've learned in the last two years: to never take my time for granted. 

It's so easy to get caught up in the day to day stresses of work and raising families, in the waiting, that we lose sight of this valuable lesson. Sometimes even I slip and forget, until a harsh wake up call reminds me. When my neighbour dies of cancer at 61. When my friends lose a friend to a heart attack at 49. When my friends' daughter suffers a sudden, life altering illness. All tragic reminders that life can change on a dime and that we can never, ever take it for granted.

The trouble with time is you always think you have more. Until you don't.

The other day I posted a link to an article on my Facebook page:

• I love you
• I'm sorry
• I understand how you feel
• I believe in you
• I'm scared
• No
• Thank you

Such important things to say, but things that many of us struggle with saying. Often we put off saying them because they are difficult to say. It's hard to admit we've been wrong or that we're scared. It's hard to say no. Or to tell someone that we love them.

I've said these things more over the last two years then I ever have before. Because I am very mindful that I might never get the opportunity to say them again.

The truth is I am scared sometimes. Scared of that god damn snake I stepped on when I was walking the dog (seriously 3000 acres of dykes and I put my foot down on a snake. It was dead, incidentally. I'm not sure if it was from me stepping on it or not). Scared that I might spend the rest of my life alone in this big old house. Scared that I will mess everything up.

I've never been a widow before, I've never been a single mother before, I've never even really had to date before. And well, you don't know what you don't know. Often, I don't know what I'm supposed to say or do. And sometimes I end up saying or doing the wrong things. But I have learned it's okay that I make mistakes, we all make mistakes. And it's okay that I don't have all the answers, I'm not supposed to. No one does.

Fortunately, I have the most amazing friends, friends who are always there for me, even when I screw up. I'm so incredibly thankful for you. I actually don't know what I'd do without you. I can't thank you enough; for always being there for me, for always listening to me natter and for being my shoulder to cry on, and also for kicking me in the ass when I need it the most.

My three kiddos have heard me say all of these things (and more) many, many times. We discuss them a lot. They know that I actually don't know what I'm doing sometimes (well, a lot of the time. I just make it up as I go along). They also know I do the best I can until I know better and then I (try) to do better. They know because I'm honest with them. Because we discuss it. And yes sometimes our discussions even illicit some eye rolling (it's okay K, if we're lucky someday you will be able to call me to tell me I was actually right, and I was, of course). 

And I tell my kids I love them every, single day.

These are things we all need to say, while we can, before it's too late.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life wishing I had told someone how much they meant to me. Or how much I appreciated them. Or how much I missed them. And that should also be on the list.

• I miss you

The people we care about need to know that we feel their absence when they aren't with us. We can't always be with our people, especially when we live in different provinces (or countries) but we can let them know we miss them. And how much we value the time we do get to spend with them.

It only takes a few seconds to send someone a message to say thank you or to tell them that we love them, or that we miss them or just that we are thinking of them. And yet often we don't make the time. We don't pick up the phone to call because we are just too damn busy, with work and life. We'll do it tomorrow.

Only, sometimes, there is no tomorrow. And you didn't say the things you needed to say.

Instead, you are left with a lifetime of regret.

The very last text I sent Dan was "Eaves trough is up!"

Not I miss you or I love you.  Because I didn't know that would be the very last thing I ever got to say to him. I thought I had all of the time in the world to say all of the things I needed to say.

The trouble is you always think you have more time to say the things you need to say. Until you don't.

I'm sorry (the garage is a mess). Thanks (for putting up with me for all of these years). I miss you.

The eaves trough is up.

It takes two seconds to say I love you.

Say it as often as you can while you still have the chance.

Because you never know when that chance will be gone.

It only takes two seconds.

I love you.


"The regret of my life is that I have not said 'I love you' often enough"~ Yoko Ono

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The Little White House

Over the last few months I've received a lot of messages; from soldiers, wives and widows, strangers and friends. Messages of support and encouragement. Messages from people who are moved and motivated by my story. And messages of sadness and sorrow. Messages from those who are struggling and have lost their way. So many heartbreaking stories. Oftentimes they just need to share their story with someone who kind of gets it. Sometimes they just need someone to tell them "you're strong enough" And you are strong enough. 

I've had a lot of people message me lately asking me for advice, wondering how I was able to triumph over tragedy and have a good, happy life.

I have a good, happy life because I made the choice to have a good, happy life. I know that makes it sound like it was simple, but of course it wasn't. Starting a second chapter of your life is far from simple or easy. It's a lot of hard work. It's exhausting and overwhelming, and a little bit frightening. But it is also meaningful, fulfilling and yes even exciting.

When people ask me for advice, I often worry that they think I have all the answers. I don't (I'm good but I'm not that good). Nobody has all the answers my friends, nobody.  And if they ever tell you that they do, just know that they are full of shit. Full of it. Really.

I don't have all of the answers but I do know this to be true: life is too short. I know I've said that before, but it bears saying over again. Life is too short.

We are all guilty of taking life for granted. Because we think there is always tomorrow. But sometimes there isn't tomorrow.

Sometimes you don't get another chance to tell that person you love them (you didn't because what if he doesn't love you back), or to call your mom (you haven't because you've just been too damn busy working and drinking beer with your buddies), or to take your kids on that trip to Disney you've been promising them for five years (you didn't because you really needed a second car, but you might take them next year). And then one day.... it's too late. There are no more chances. You never told him. You never called her. You never took them. And you never will.

There is a little white house at the end of my street. I pass it several times a day, and I often think what a perfect home for a retired couple. It's a cute little bungalow with a well manicured lawn and lovely flower beds. There's a beautiful bridal wreath bush in full bloom in front. The couple who live there moved in a couple of summers ago. They have a crazy little black lab that they got when she was a puppy last year (who incidentally is far better trained then Ginny ever will be). I often drive by them as they are walking downtown for dinner or coffee, or we pass when we are walking our dogs. They are always hand in hand. Always laughing and smiling. Clearly they are a couple who are madly in love and own it quite proudly. They make the most of every minute they have together. Every time I pass them my heart is warmed and I can't help but smile.

I was never a person to believe in things happening for a reason, but over the last two years I've started too. I'll never believe that the accident happened for a reason. It didn't, it was nothing more than that, a fluke accident. But I do believe there is a reason why we meet the people we do, when we do. I've had the most amazing people come into my life over the last two years, people who have held me while I cried, who made me laugh when my heart was breaking, people who have taught me so much and helped me become the person I am today. I can't imagine what my life would be like without them.

Call it fate or serendipity or whatever you will, I believe people come into our lives because they are meant to. Maybe they are meant to change us, or we are meant to change them, or maybe we are meant to change each other.

And sometimes it's because we are meant to love them.

Sometimes maybe we're just meant to be there for each other and love each other, as best we can, for as long as we can.

The other day when I was walking Ginny, one of the neighbourhood ladies stopped me to ask me if  I'd heard the news about the man in the little white house. My heart immediately sank. Because when someone asks you if "you've heard the news", it's rarely good news. He'd become ill with a stomach bug a couple of months ago, and he just couldn't shake it. He went to the ER a couple of times, and was told it was just a virus. But of course it wasn't just a virus. It was cancer.  And it was already too late. There's nothing that can be done, no treatment or cure, just medication to manage his pain.

They got married a couple of weeks ago. I don't know why they hadn't before, maybe it hadn't seemed important or they just hadn't gotten around to it, and besides, they had time (there is never enough time). But time sadly, is no longer on their side. It could happen at any time. Today, tomorrow, next week.

You just never know.

They thought they would get to spend the rest of their lives together. Instead they spent the rest of his life together.

He's sixty one years old. He retired only a couple of years ago. He played eighteen rounds of golf a day. He was physically fit and active. He did everything right and he has terminal cancer.

Cancer didn't happen to him for a reason, it just happened.

I'm sure neither one of them ever planned on starting a second chapter but, well, sometimes things happen. And then one day fate (or serendipity or whatever you call it) led them to each other.

How lucky were they that they found each other when they did. They had a second chance at love and they took it.

For a few brief years, a moment in time, she was his person and he was hers. They were happy. They made the most out of everyday they had together.

Sometimes we're meant to be there for each other, and love each other as best we can, for as long as we can. And sometimes that's not long enough. It's never, ever long enough.

I don't have all of the answers but I know this to be true.

This morning I ran by the little white house at the end of my street. A wife lives there alone with her black lab. Her husband will never come home.

All we can do is to love the best we can for as long as we can. 

Life is too damn short.

"To be someone's first love is great but to be their last is priceless."~Anonymous

A Beautiful Day

It was one of those mornings, a Tuesday that was more like a Monday but worse. I was going in 13 different directions at once but getting no where and in the middle of it all, Ginny was barking incessantly (as only Ginny can) for her walk until I couldn't stand it any more and gave in and took her. It had snowed again last night, which was definitely not helping my mood, and it was still snowing while we were out for our walk. For the first 30 minutes of our walk, I was mentally stressing about all the crap I needed to get done today. And then I met up with one of the old gaffers from my neighbourhood.

I love old people, which is a good thing as I'm surrounded by them here and at the Legion. I see this same old guy literally every time I go for a walk (yes I'm well aware this means I have the same daily routine as an 85 year old man). Sun, clouds, cold, wind, rain, snow. He's there with a smile on his face. Every time I see him we exchange hellos and discuss the weather (as all good Martimers do), and everyday regardless of said weather he tells me it's a beautiful day. I'd been busy over the weekend so hadn't seen him for a few days. "Well there you are" was the first thing he said to me this morning. "I was wondering where you had gotten too. Beautiful day isn't it?" Neither one of us can see out of our glasses because they are wet with snow and he's standing there with a grin on his face telling me it's a beautiful day. I have to admit I wasn't seeing it. In fact I wasn't seeing much of anything at that point in time. And I told him as much, "Sun, clouds, cold, wind, rain, snow, you always say it's a beautiful day." "And it is" was his response, "It's always a beautiful day when I see you." And I am mush.

What a charmer, as most old gaffers are (except the creepy one at the Legion who has a thing for curls and was trying to touch my hair). I'm adopting this one though, he's a keeper. I'm reasonably sure he's a widower, he wears a wedding ring but he's always alone,even when I see him driving in the neighbourhood. And that just makes him even more endearing to me.

 I have a huge soft spot for old people who are widowed and alone. Because that is going to be me someday. In the blink of an eye that will be me.

 I hope somebody will stop and say hello to me when I'm 85 and shuffling down the street. I thought about him all the way home. I'm sure to him it seems like only yesterday he was 44. Time's funny like that, it flies by. We're already a quarter of the way through the year. Yesterday it was New Year's Eve (so much gin) and today the first week of April is over.

When I got home from my walk I went out back and sat and watched the snow falling in the woods down below. My old gaffer was right, it was a beautiful day. The snow was falling softly on the trees and the birds were singing in the branches. I thought about New Year's Eve and the list of things I promised myself I would do this year. I've already accomplished a lot of them. I've laughed, a lot. I've hugged old friends and new ones. I've had coffee with friends. I've visited somewhere I've never been before. I've felt the sun warm my face (in Ireland of all places, go figure). And today I caught snowflakes on my tongue (and glasses) and made a snow angel. Yes, I made a snow angel (my neighbours enjoyed that immensely, by the way). Snow angels in April. Which makes me wonder what I'll be doing in June. I can't wait to find out.

Kindness is like snow, it beautifies everything it covers.~Kahil Gibran