It’s 5 in the morning and I’m sitting on the tarmac in Sacramento.
Bound for Maine.
She called me nearly two weeks ago and left a message saying she just wanted to hear my voice. Everything was fine, she offered, knowing that I would worry otherwise.
I meant to call her back.
I wanted to call her back. To hear her voice.
But, one day’s deadlines followed another day’s search for a new bathing suit for Katie, and another day of, well, life. Little fires that we all put out daily.
Each night, as I lay in bed, I remembered that I had forgotten to return her call and each night I vowed to call her the next day.
Because she would be there. She has always been there. Always.
Yesterday, always ended. She suffered a massive heart attack in her sleep and my chance to call her back… to hear her voice… evaporated.
So now, I sit here. Waiting to go and be there for her funeral. And I am filled regret and such profound sorrow.
If you owe someone a phone call… a letter… a visit, don’t wait for tomorrow.
Because there are no guarantees that there will be another tomorrow.
Thank you, Craig, for scooping me off the floor when I got the news.
Thank you for knowing that I had to go home… had to be there.
Thank you for immediately researching last-minute flights and for securing my travel when I could do nothing but sob.
Thank you for always being who I need in any given moment.