It counts for something...

So much is going on in my life—but then again, there always is. Honestly, I can’t remember a time when my life was just something akin to smooth sailing, simple and easy breezy. Simple is not in my nature. Easy isn’t either. And if given a choice, I’d probably choose rocky waters in the middle of a hurricane over smooth sailing any day.

But that’s not to say there aren’t times when the chaos becomes too overwhelming, and I need to pause and breathe—just breathe  ...and maybe veg out on the couch for multiple hours watching an entire series of some TV show I’d always heard about but never had time to watch on Netflix.

My life is busy, yes, but this doesn’t make me unique. Many people are busy, I get that. But holy hell, my life is...yeah, it’s busy. I’m tired. I’m stressed. Yet, I continue on. I put one foot in front of the other and do the next thing in front of me to do. Again, none of that makes me unique either. It just makes me another person, among people. Another car on the road, rushing to get to my destination. The clock spins, the day goes by and life continues moving forward regardless of whether or not I got the kitchen cleaned or the grocery shopping done.

Why am I writing this post today? Many reasons I guess, but mainly because I’m a writer, (who’s on deadline mind you,) and I have things on my mind—things other than the book I’m writing. As a writer, I must get these thoughts out of my head, and even though I’ve already shared them verbally with a few persons, they’re still swirling, so...a blog post is the outlet.

A friend from high school, who also lives in the Phoenix area—we grew up in Connecticut—was killed in a motorcycle accident a week ago. Today was his memorial service. We weren’t close. In fact, we never really hung out in school together since we ran around with different crowds, but we knew each other and we were friendly. We reconnected via FB a few years ago and through that I found out he lived in Arizona too. Also, that his kids went to the same summer care at the elementary school down the street from my house that my kids went to. Small world. We did the typical, “Let’s get coffee sometime.” Or “Let’s go for a drink soon.” 

 

Neither happened.

I sat quietly today at his memorial service and listened to people share about how wonderful he was, about the bright light inside him, and how he shined on those who knew him. And how much he loved his kids. I learned a lot about him today that I never got to know first hand. It made me smile and also wish I’d gone for that coffee or drink. Missed opportunities suck for sure.

Last week after I’d been told of his passing, I was driving somewhere, being that “other car among cars rushing to get to my destination” I mentioned above, and I had a moment while sitting at a traffic light where I thought about how it can all be gone in a blink of an eye.

An unexpected flash in the sky, or a snap of fingers, the wrong place and the wrong time...and poof! It’s over.

The traffic passed on the cross street in front of me. Pedestrians traversed the crosswalk. Life continued in its usual hustle and bustle way, including mine. But his didn’t. Somewhere, not too many miles from where I sat in my car, his family was devastated. His close friends brought to their knees.

A precious life was taken from this world, and life moved forward...in spite of it.

Talk about a fucking tragedy.

Talk about some perspective...

I am not a fan of missed opportunities. But the busy...it makes me wonder: how much do I miss because of the busy? A lot, I’m sure.

But there’s also a ton that I don’t miss. I have a very busy, yet stressful career in technology management. I love what I do. Its pure chaos and I thrive on finding solutions to make the job smoother. I also love managing people and being the kind of manager that people want to work for.  

And then there’s my writing. I write every night in order to meet deadlines, yes. But I also write because I love it. I do it because it’s my dream and I want it so bad that I’m willing to give up sleep and television and gardening and a perfectly clean house in order to reach my dream. I’m lucky enough to be given the opportunity to have my writing published. I get to call myself an author. I get to write, revise, rewrite and then edit some more, until my eyes are ready to pop out of my skull...because I want it. And I wont miss my opportunity!

I guess my point or what all of this comes down to is: if you have a dream, I hope you reach for it. And I hope you get to grab hold of it with both hands and ride it to heaven and back. What I knew of my friend, he reached for and grabbed his dreams with both hands too. He lived his life to the fullest.

And yes, the traffic still moves. Life carries forward, and the majority of the world has no idea it’s suffered a loss. But aside from the rest of the planet, my friend lived and cast his mark on those that he loved in his little corner of the world. And he left it in such a way that people would never forget.

Busy or not, that counts for something.

RIP Michael...