Spaghetti Sauce and Passwords

I had a visit from a couple of dear friends recently.  A woman who used to be our neighbor sent me a text message asking if she and her daughter could stop by for a visit.  My husband and I hadn’t seen either of them for at least a year – maybe longer.  We responded with a “Yes!”

They arrived bearing gifts from a favorite bakery, and we sat on the front porch and visited.  It was so wonderful to catch up with them.  We got to talking about life and death and how fast life is going with no guarantee that we will see tomorrow.  If it sounds like it was a depressing conversation, it really wasn’t.  We laughed and shared stories of good times, not-so-good times, and those times we expected something to go a certain way, but it didn’t, and how it turned out better than we could have ever planned.

We shared how some of those changes led to experiences we would never forget and talked about coping strategies we used when we were faced with circumstances with no clear path in front of us.  We remembered times when laughter got us through a tough time and other times when we just cried with frustration and disappointment. 

I told them the story of when I had just been diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer.  My husband was driving me to one of my many appointments and he suddenly turned to me and said, “I don’t know all the passwords to our bank accounts.”  I said that was no problem and that I would make up a spreadsheet with our accounts and passwords, which bills I paid on-line, which were auto-debit, and where I kept files he might need.  He seemed satisfied with that.

I almost choked with laughter over what he said next.  “And you’ve still not showed me how to make your spaghetti sauce.”   Why would I show him how to do that?  He’d no longer need me, and he’d probably stop paying the insurance premiums for me.  Are you kidding?  I’m taking that recipe to the grave with me.   And don’t bother looking for it; it’s all in my head.

Between spaghetti sauce and passwords, there are so many things I feel I need to organize and clean up.  So many loose ends need to be tied up or at least tidied up.   I feel compelled to start another spreadsheet with checklists of things to do, stuff to sort, and more lists to make.  Do you see a pattern here?

As much as I love getting together with my friends, I’m not usually the one to initiate those meetings. My checklists become the priority and seeing friends gets moved to “later.”  Of course, then the guilt creeps in for neglecting my friends.   And, as we all know, guilt is the gift that keeps on giving.  That list will be there tomorrow.  My friends may not.

I need to stop waiting for a “better” time to see that friend or to make that call.  There may never be a better time.  Today is here.  Use it, revel in it, make those memories.

Carpe diem.  Today, not tomorrow.

Carol

Cancer has progressed to my bones.  I pray that it never enters my soul.