Thankfully I’m Not Planning A Funeral, But…

Why is it that something like this to happen before we do the things we know we should be doing all along?

This post is part of my 30 day creative writing challenge. Click here to learn more about the challenge or here to explore the other posts in this series.

Today my heart is heavy. The thought that I should be making funeral arrangements keeps running through my mind. You see, I got a text yesterday letting me know that my dad had been in a motorcycle accident. And usually, a message like that is followed by really bad news.

But the worst of his injuries, as far as we can tell right now, are a broken leg, heavy bruising and some serious road rash. We just got back from the hospital, and don’t get me wrong, I am really happy that the injuries were not more severe, but I can’t help but think about how different this weekend could have been.

As I sit here and write my thought for the day, I can’t help to think about the possibility of life without my dad. Then I start getting mad at myself for being such a shitty son. How come I don’t call more, or visit more often? Why is it that something like this to happen before we do the things we know we should be doing all along?

He only lives four hours away and it took something like this for me to come visit. That’s the only thing going through my head right now. Mixed emotions and the thought that it easily could have been worse.

What if I wasn’t just coming to help him get around a bit while he gets used to walking around on crutches? What if I was here to handle funeral arrangements. What if I was here to see my dad for the last time?

I’m going to try and think about something else now. To not have those thoughts running through my head, but it is hard to push them from my mind. But as I push those thoughts from my mind, I wonder if anything will actually change moving forward.

Sure I’ll have this experience to remind me how much I love my family and how much I often take them for granted, but I have a sneaky suspicion that pretty soon, things will go right back to the way they were. I’ll head back home. His leg will heal. And the void in our relationship will return. We’ll go weeks without talking, I wont come visit and I’ll hate myself while doing it.

But maybe not. Maybe this is what we needed to remember how much we really matter to each other. Maybe we will find a way to make more time for each other moving forward. Or maybe, next time, I won’t be so lucky. Maybe the next call I get will be something more severe. And I will have to spend the rest of my life thinking about how I could have done something different. How I could have loved him more. And that is a pretty scary thought.