Tomorrow

“We always think there's enough time to do things with other people. Time to say things to them. And then something happens and then we stand there holding on to words like 'if'.” 

-Fredrick Backman, A Man Called Ove

This is my best friend from middle school and high school, Christi. Her mom passed away on Monday.

Christi is my first friend my age to lose a parent while we've known each other. I'm 28. Her mom was healthy. We aren't supposed to lose our parents yet.

Throughout our seven years of middle school and high school, Christi and I spent five or six days together every week. She would come to my house, and we'd pretend to study. I'd go to her house and watch You've Got Mail for the 35th time. We did each other's hair for prom and then tried on all of each other's dresses before picking the perfect one. Christi's mom was always there for all of that, usually standing behind the camera in her quiet way, never wanting to steal the spotlight.

And then, on November 14th, 2016, she wasn't there anymore.

I hadn't seen Christi's mom in years when she passed away. When college rolled around, Christi headed off to Dallas Baptist, while I went to OU. I got married. She got her master's degree and a fancy job. Though miles and circumstances often separated us, I knew that Christi and I would always be present for the "big things" in each other's lives.

However, as we became adults, Christi and I saw less and less of each other's parents face-to-face. Which, I suppose, is why I was surprised to find myself so distraught over Diane's death. I was crying into the macaroni at work last week before I even knew what was happening.

Part of it is that, as Christi got older, I began to see more of her mom in her, even when I didn't physically see her mom in person. In his book, The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis discusses how his group of friends was never the same again after one of them died. That particular friend brought out aspects of the others' personalities that wouldn't have otherwise been displayed. It's the same with Christi and Diane, and I'm sad to think about part of my friend essentially dying when her mom did. I will miss the parts of Christi that were molded by 29 years of life with this woman.

"How do you go through life without your mom?"
Christi's sister, Ashley, posted this on her Instagram a few days after Diane died.

I don't know.  I'm aware that many people do not have relationships with their mothers, but I don't know how I would go through life without mine. I hate that Christi has to.

I hate that Christi's dad has to go through life without his wife. Men are always so strong until they lose the woman they love.

The suddenness of Diane's death has caused me to ponder the truth that death is near to all of us. In my mind, people are supposed to pass away like my grandfather. He had had a long, good life, and he left the pain of cancer behind to go be with his Jesus. In my mind, people aren't supposed to die at the age of 34 from a stroke, like my cousin's husband. Healthy hearts aren't supposed to stop in the middle of the night like Christi's mom's.   But they do.  Death is no respecter of persons, and it is certainly no respecter of my thoughts on how people are "supposed" to meet their end.

My daughter is currently loving the Frog and Toad series. She reads this one story, "Tomorrow," over and over again. Toad is "down in the dumps" because of the pile of chores that he needs to do.

'“I will do it tomorrow,” said Toad. “Today I will take life easy.”'

Don't we all do this? We assume that we will have more time than we do, when, in reality, we are only promised this day. This moment. Everything beyond now is a gift.

I am not suggesting that we all live in fear of having the people we love taken from us. Rather, we should seek to savor the fleeting time that we have with them, for there is no guarantee of tomorrow.

I don't want to be left "holding on to words like 'if'".

Junior Homecoming (2000)

Junior Homecoming (2000)

Senior Prom (2002)

*Written in memory of Diane Corbitt. I'm forever thankful for the legacy of love she's leaving behind in her children and in all of the kindergarteners whose lives she touched throughout her many years of teaching.