How Are You Spending It?

I saw a facebook update that a high school classmate had lost his life in an accident.  Just three years older than me and we weren’t friends but I wanted to remember his face better as I thought about his loss. Going to his facebook profile I saw his recent posts, a life interrupted.  “All’s well with me.”  “Lots coming together all at once. Looking forward to it!”  Then there were his plans for his last night in this life: “Going out to dinner tonight with friends. Got a lot to do in the morning so I will be up early to get everything done.”

The next afternoon he would run out of time. It would all be over.  Not another chance to get something done.  Not another morning to wake up and start again.  Whatever was left undone would remain undone.

I hope he had dessert.

That night with his friends, I hope he ate what he liked, not what was in his diet.

I hope he laughed, not held back by inhibition.

I hope he said what he thought, not worried what someone might think.

I hope he hugged his friends, not ashamed of his affection.

I hope he passed on his congratulations, not silenced by jealousy.

I hope he listened, not waiting to interrupt.

I hope he smiled for the camera, unconcerned about how he looked.

I hope he looked everyone in the eye, unafraid of what they might see in his.

I hope he shared his stories, without worry over their value.

I hope he pulled out a chair and declared, I’m here!, without apology for being late or not better dressed or for gods sake for taking up space.

I hope he didn’t question the friendships freely given, accepting that they liked him.

I hope he didn’t worry about how he would pay for the check, knowing that he would always be taken care of.

I hope he didn’t watch the clock, understanding that anyone waiting for him wanted him to have a good time.

I hope he didn’t say things he really didn’t mean, realizing that his opinion was valid.

I hope he didn’t waste his time, instead unburdened by social expectations and obligations.

I hope he didn’t question whether he belonged, rather content with his choices and confident of his decisions.

I hope he didn’t push away the kindness, the love, the sincerity of his companions, believing instead he deserved it all.

I hope he didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t, feeling proud of his own unique contribution to the moment.

I hope he didn’t sit there telling himself that someday he’d feel comfortable enough to be himself.

I hope he enjoyed every minute he had.

 

There wouldn’t be anymore.