It's a cliche. I know, and I apologize for that. But it's true, and even though we hear it all the time, I don't think that it always sinks in the way it should.
In my job as a nurse I have the honor and the privilege of sharing with people in their lives. I still remember being a student and realizing for the first time the unique position I was in when a woman started crying. And not just tearing up. I mean full out, wracking, sobbing, snot all over the place kind of crying that you don't hardly ever see, even on TV. I mean, shit, people probably don't even cry that much for their psychotherapists. "I can't lose him," she said of her husband, who lay in the bed connected to oxygen and tubing and pumps. I wondered what made me qualified to bear witness to this. I was a first year nursing student. I wasn't married myself. I hadn't had much heart ache or tragedy in my own life. I had never met this woman before. I didn't know what to say or do. But that didn't matter. At least not to her.
And sometimes, seven years later, I still don't know what to say. But what I've learned since then is that sometimes the only comfort you can give is your physical presence. There are no words. And sometimes that can be okay.
Anyways, seeing people at their most vulnerable had always left me feeling very humbled.
Today at work I had a similar experience. I cannot write about it, because I could sued, and/or fired. But what I can say, and what I will say, is that life's too fucking short.
It's too short to complain about your neighbors lawn.
It's too short to worry about that five pounds you've been meaning to lose.
It's too short to work overtime on the weekends just to pay off some stupid bill from some stupid store. (Although you should get round to paying them at some point. They really do seem ill inclined to philosophical discussions about the brevity of life. Trust me. I mean, they might, might - indulge you, depending on who you talk to- Vic from Capital One is really nice if you can get him ever-- and listen to you for a little while, but all they seem to care about, from what I can tell, is getting their money and getting it now. Motherfuckers)
Anyways. Here is a list of what I did on the weekend:
-went to a Tom Petty concert.
-passed out at a Tom Petty concert
-slept in on Saturday morning (well, tried to. Geoff and I have differing views on what the term "waking up with the kids" means.)
-Took my kids out for lunch (well, and the dentist, but that's OK cuz they like the dentist. Well, sort of. They did get laughing gas, so that makes it fun.)
-Went to my cousins 3rd birthday party
-Made a big breakfast for my family on Sunday
-Had a picnic in the park with my kids
-Rode the merry go round and choo choo with my baby (he didn't like it, and frankly, looked kind of terrified at the prospect, but that's not the point here.)
-Took my kids swimming
-Celebrated Fathers day with my husband
-Took a long bath at the end of the day.
-Sat on the deck and read a book.
Here's a list of what I didn't do:
-Clean my bathrooms
-Wash my windows
-Get caught up on my laundry (I did put a dent in it, though.)
-Mop my floors
-Worry about work
-Go grocery shopping (we ordered pizza on Monday, went to a community BBQ last night. Tonight we're kinda screwed but we'll deal with that later.)
My bathroom is in a bit of a shamble, but I'm OK with that, barring that no visiting dignitaries decide to pop by. The chances of that, I have to assume, are slim. I have always asked myself "what will my kids remember most when I'm gone?" Will they remember "She always kept the floors really, really clean" or will they remember "She played in the sprinkler with us on her days off"
What do I want them to remember?
And of course, it's always going to be the latter.
So enjoy your day today, whoever you are.