On my way to a birthday party, I grabbed the mail.
Inside the box was a fat envelope from my father and stepmother.
It contained all of their legal documents outlining their independent wishes for their financial estate declarations and their healthcare decision making...in the event of their deaths.
It was sobering.
And yet, relieving knowing that they are prepared and have their affairs in order. It will certainly make it much easier for my brothers and I to execute their last will and testament.
Fast forward to this morning, picking up my Sunday New York Times, reading my beloved "Modern Love" column:
Modern Love, Sad News Like a Warm Hug Goodbye
about a woman who gets a phone call from her stepmother that her father went for a swim and drowned. You'll have to read the piece. It's really quite good.
I know that at the age of 37, I'm blessed to have my mother, stepfather, father, and stepmother on this earth. Some of my friends have had to say goodbye to a parent and to endure the sadness that comes from not sharing your children with the ones who raised you.
But it's hard. I can't imagine not being able to pick up the phone and share the latest about my kiddos, how my running is going, or when we're planning to get together.
And yet, the Modern Love column is so powerful because of a particular line. When asked by her coworkers how she's hanging on, the essayist replies,
"Thank you, I'm fine. He died doing what he loved, living fully. No regrets. He loved us and we loved him and we all knew it."
I love that. They had no doubts about their love for one another.
I fear that I've not done a good job of sharing the love I feel in my heart openly and transparently with some on this earth.
I need to pick up the phone or send a letter. It's too important to tell those you love how you feel.
There's just really no reason not to.