My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my
sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package.
"This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He
discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was
exquisite: silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of
lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was
still attached. "Jan bought this the first time we went to
New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it.
She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I
guess this is the occasion." He took the slip from me and
put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to
the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for
a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned
to me. "Don't ever save anything for a special occasion.
Every day you're alive is a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the funeral and the
days that followed when I helped him and my niece
attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected
death. I thought about them on the plane returning to
California from the Midwestern town where my sister's
family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't
seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that
she had done without realizing that they were special. I'm
still thinking about his words, and they've changed my
life.
I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck
and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds
in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and
friends and less time in committee meetings.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience
to savor, not endure.
I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish
them. I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china
and crystal for every special event -- such as losing a
pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia
blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like
it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out
$28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm
not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks
in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that
function as well as my party-going friends'. "Someday"
and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my
vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I
want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what
my sister would have done had she known that she
wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted.
I think she would have called family members and a few
close friends. She might have called a few former friends
to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to
think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her
favorite food. I'm guessing -- I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me
angry if knew that my hours were limited. Angry because
I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in
touch with -- someday. Angry because I hadn't written
certain letters that I intended to write --one of these days.
Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and
daughter often enough how much I truly love them. I'm
trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save
anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives.
And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself
that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath
truly is...a gift from God.
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