Late last year my favorite person in the whole world had a stroke. Ever since then she’s had several seizures, another stroke, and has been in and out of comas. When she did come to, she was completely confused, and, basically, “not there”. Although her body lingered on, I was already mourning the loss of her essence. For all intents and purposes I had given up hope for my Aunt Betty. Even if I had lived next door rather than 3000 miles away, I knew we’d never gossip and joke again, and that devastated me.
Then the other day I was on Facebook and her daughter-in-law contacts me via her I-phone. She says Aunt Betty is walking and talking again! She sends me a photo of her, and she looks great.
The head cold that had been stopping up my sinuses so completely that I wasn’t convinced I even had nostrils promptly disappeared, and it hasn’t come back. It was a miracle. Because I was given back the person I love most!
She asks if I want to text with her. God, yes! And we chatted for about 15 minutes. It was definitely her. We have insider jokes and ways of talking that can’t be replicated. It felt like she had been resurrected. It brought tears to my eyes.
I knew that this was a gift that I shouldn’t take for granted. Who knows how long it will last. So I made a point of telling her everything I wanted to tell her but couldn’t all these past months. “I think of you every day.” “I love you very much.” “You are my favorite person in the world.” “I’ve always been very grateful to have you in my life.”
And what really, really got to me was that she told me she was proud of me. That’s a huge deal. At seminal moments in the 24 years since my mother passed away, I’ve often wondered if she would be proud of me, and of course there’s no way to know. So hearing that from Aunt Betty, the next best thing to a mother, meant everything to me.
They will be moving her to a less intensive part of the hospital soon, and hopefully she’ll then have a phone in her room. But in the meantime, my sister and I sent her flowers. I figured she could use some color to offset all that New England snow. I’ll also be sending her some photographs.
But I’m still in shock. Things like this just don’t happen. A dear friend of mine would call it a mitzvah. All I know is I’m beyond grateful that I had the opportunity to say all those things that I needed to say to her. Because of that, whatever happens now, I’ll be at peace.
And this profound life lesson got me thinking. Technically I have that gift with everyone I love. They’re still here. But they won’t always be. I should make the effort to tell everyone what I need to tell them as if it’s their last day on earth.
Actually I’ve always known that on some level, but I take people for granted. It’s a bad habit that many of us have. So I decided to invent a holiday for myself. I’m calling it Last Day. I’m going to celebrate it on the last day of every month, because that will be easy to remember, until such time as it becomes such a habit that I don’t need to designate a special day.
On Last Day, I’m going to make an effort to tell people I love just how much they mean to me. I’m going to do it until they’re sick of hearing it. I’m going to talk to these people as if this is our last day together, ever. Because some day, inevitably, it will be. But this is not meant to be a depressing holiday. Not at all. It’s a celebration, because I’ve been given the gift of knowing how important these conversations are.
May I never forget.
Happy Last Day, dear reader, and thank you for making this blog so special.
[Aunt Betty’s flowers via ftd.com]