"One of these days..."

"I have learned that I have fewer and fewer 'one of these days' left in my life, so I better get busy doing the things I dream of."

~ me

“One of these day.” How many times have I said this in life? Too many to count. I don’t know. Maybe it is a danger of being a dreamer. Maybe it comes from reading too much. Although I don’t think there is a such thing as reading too much. Wherever it comes from, these words have crossed my lips many many times. And sometimes, the “one of these days” actually comes to pass.

When I returned from my first trip to England and France in ’75, I said, “One of these days I’ll go back.” I did. I even took it a step further when in 1996 my wife and I moved to England. But still, there are some things that are left undone. There are still some “one of these days” that need to be taken care of.

This became more obvious to me at 9:50 p.m. this past Friday. I got a telephone call from my mother. She was crying. Her sister, my Aunt Bonnie, died that day. It was unexpected. She wasn’t sick. There was no warning. She simply went into her kitchen, suffered either a heart attack or massive stroke, we don’t know, and died. Her son found that evening.

My mother, Bonnie and her brother Bill would spend every Fourth of July together. They started doing this when my grandmother was still living. They’d get together every year at that time and spend one or two weeks. They’d visit, talk, reminiscence, look through old photographs and eat. There was always a plan on where to eat and on what days. After my grandmother died they’d still get together. They would take trips to my hometown to visit the graves of my grandmother and grandfather. They would change the flowers, wipe away the mud and dust, and tell a few stories. Then they’d drive home. A trip to Sikeston, coffee on the back porch, breakfast at Loveless Cafe, lunch at Cock of the Walk or Miss Mary Bobo’s, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together and sharing life.

It will be different now. I’m sure that my Uncle Bill and my mother will still get together next Fourth of July. They’ll visit, share a few meals and remember stories of my Aunt. They’ll laugh some and there will be a few times that they’ll simply be quiet. 

That is what families should do I think. We should remember each other. We should rejoice in each others triumphs and soothe each others sorrows. We share our memories and we tell the stories. It is how families continue from generation to the next. 

But setting here and thinking about my Aunt and this past Friday, I am reminded of the frail nature of life and how suddenly it can be taken from us. When I go to bed tonight I will do so with a confidence that I’ll wake up tomorrow. But, I really don’t know that. None of us do. I hope that I have another sun rise in my future just as I hope that I will enjoy another sunset in the evening. But that is all it is - a hope. God will determine my days.

What I do know, and this too is a gift from God, is that I have this moment in time. I have this moment to hug my wife and tell her that I love her. I have this time to let my children and grandchildren know how much I love them and how very proud I am of them. I have this time to let my mother know how happy I am that she is still a part of my life. I have this moment to think about my sister and pray that her allergies get better soon and let her know how happy I am that her husband has a job that he loves. I have this moment to celebrate the wonderful friendships that I have been blessed with. I can be thankful for the hours we’ve had sharing our lives, laughing, breaking bread and the simple joy of being together. And most importantly, I can be forever grateful that God looked down upon me and determined that I was in need of salvation. So, He sent His Son to bring me home. That, I can do. And with whatever breath He gives me, I can use them to bring Him glory.

So, I’ll get up from my chair here and I’ll go about my day. I will continue to think about the “one of these days” that still (hopefully) lie before me. There is still a lot I want to do and places I wish to go. But, knowing that I only have this moment, I’ll get to doing what I can while I can. 

God Bless You Aunt Bonnie. Be at peace.

~ Greg