Thursday, January 10, 2013

Tomorrow Isn't Guaranteed

I read a post the other day with a photo of a young man and his wife. In the caption he wrote a letter, professing his love for her, describing in such heartwarming detail the lengths he would go for something as simple as bringing her coffee from the ends of the earth because it would make her happy. I smiled, and kept smiling, until I read the words, 

"I want to thank you so much for giving me our 5 years together and even though it was short lived, I couldn't have asked for a better person in my life."

I was confused by this. The letter had started out so hopeful, so promising, and loving. I thought perhaps that maybe they had a falling out and he wanted to confess his devotion publicly so that maybe she would give him another chance. I continued reading, learning that they had two sons together and that he would ensure they would grow up to be good men. At this point, a small fear grew within me. I had a feeling that I wasn't going to like what a part of me already knew: his wife of five years, at the young age of twenty-four passed away from cancer, leaving behind a loving husband and two sons.

He wrote that this was not a message of goodbye but that it was a letter to say "see you later, yea?" I loved this letter, this expression of undying love for many reasons, so much so that I had to write about it at 6:00am in the morning.

There are so many lessons to be learned by their story: love hard, take risks, be compassionate, be selfless, and finally, don't live life afraid to have it all. I'm sure there are more, but undoubtedly and with clear certainty, understand that tomorrow isn't guaranteed, so make the most of every moment you've got on this earth.

Brent Paiste, you don't know me, but thank you for sharing you story. Thank you for reminding us that life is short; that life is filled with good people like your wife who deserve more time on this earth, and that love like yours transcends heaven.

Please accept my condolences for your loss. I offer you words of solace my friend gave to me when the loss of someone I cared deeply for was no longer in my life and the emptiness of the night seemed impossible to bear, 
"Weeping may endure the night, but joy comes in the morning."