This Present Moment

“I get it now; I didn’t get it then. That life is about losing and about doing it as gracefully as possible…and enjoying everything in between.” -Mia Farrow 

I recently had coffee with a man in his 40’s.

“You should have kids”, he said. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t worry about money. Don’t worry about whether or not you’d be a good parent. Have some kids. You’ll figure all the other stuff out as you go along.”

“Do you have any kids?”, I asked?

“No!” was the reply.

Silence.

“I screwed up”, he said. “I convinced my wife to wait until we could afford a house, but by the time that day came around, it was too late. Unforeseen medical problems now prevent us from having children. Today, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to have a few kids. I should have just decided to have kids.”

None of us have any idea what tomorrow is going to take away.

Three nights ago my best friend’s 3-year old nephew almost drowned.

He’s been in critical condition ever since.

I just found out, 5 minutes ago, that he died.

My friends, it’s been said a million times but it bears endless repeating:

The present moment is the only reality we have. Everything else is a guess. If there’s anything or anyone in your life worth being thankful for, worth making time for, or worth saying “I love you” to, I invite you to reconsider the assumption that there’s a better time for these activities than right now.

Sincerely,

T.K. Coleman

P.S. I don’t always reply as quickly as I would like to your comments, but I appreciate all of you lovely people out there who have ever taken the time to read my thoughts whether you comment or not. I’m sending you all thoughts of appreciation.

16 thoughts on “This Present Moment

  1. While I agree with your opinion, I still feel the sorrow of those you mentioned. In my life I’ve narrowly escaped death three times. I finally asked the question, “How long before I understand, before I GET IT.” Now it’s time to chase my dreams or die trying instead of dying waiting.

    1. The things you just wrote….that IS my opinion. The sorrow of those who suffer from loss should serve as a sober reminder of the preciousness of the present moment. By the way…I’m glad you’re still alive. It’s good to have you here.

  2. My prayers are with you and your friends. Heartbreak is painful, and as much as learning from it can be enlightening, it is still worth acknowledging the pain. My only consolation for you today from me is that I’m honored to have found your blog months ago, and it continues to be a blessing in my life.

    1. “Heartbreak is painful, and as much as learning from it can be enlightening,”

      Well said. You are absolutely right, Pearse. Acknowledging the pain, even though it feels rough, is a pivotal part of good health. Thanks for saying that.

      I appreciate your kind words about my blog as well. Thanks for taking the time to share that. It’s a blessing to know. Take care out there and have a good week.

  3. Yes. How life can change in a moment.

    My granddaughter’s best friend since grade
    school just lost her 3 week old baby girl. She
    and her husband had been trying for 5 years
    to have a child. They’d rushed her 3 times to
    the hospital with breathing problems before
    this (and were made to feel like over anxious
    parents.) She died in emergency just yesterday.

    It’s my granddaughter’s first encounter with
    life’s unexpected tragedies. My son (her father)
    has asked me to offer my own consoling words.
    But I was actually “stuck.” For someone who
    believes so much in the power of words and had
    experienced her own share of tragedies in life, I
    Found myself at a loss as to what to say this time.

    Until I read your post above. You’ve given me that.
    Thank you.

    And my condolences to you, your best friend, his
    nephew’s parents and all those who have had their
    share of life’s sorrows.

    “The present moment.”

    1. I’m sorry to hear of your granddaughter’s and her best friend’s loss. I’m sending my deepest sympathies their way. I know what you mean about feeling “stuck.” Sometimes, all we can do is be there and share the gift of our love an appreciation. On that note, thank you for being here.

      1. We’re living in world, stars and dust,
        Between heaven ‘n all that surrounds us.
        We’re travellers here, spirits passing through,
        And the love we give, is all that will endure.
        Just like a rose after the rain
        Something beautiful remains.
        Tears will leave no stains;
        Time will ease the pain;
        For every life that fades
        Something beautiful remains.
        (Tina Turner)

  4. Over the last couple of years I’ve lost a few people. One girl was in my class, her heart transplant failed and she died. She and I never got along, we didn’t like each other and we knew that we would never be friends, yet even when she died, I cried just as every one of her friends did. My father died in Iraq fighting for this country, my best friend committed suicide, loss is common but not easily taken as a commodity. Each of these losses I lost all sense of words, I had no capability of showing compassion or even expressing my own sense of loss. I didn’t get to go to two of the funerals, the girl from my class or my own best friend’s, I sent my condolences months later to their families, but that was when the shock and the grief had finally taken it’s toll and worn off a bit. At my own father’s funeral, I got up to speak on behalf of the man that he was, but each time I went to open my mouth, the words never came. Again I sent out letters to every person that had been at the funeral, all 250 people.

    The present was present for only a moment and I found that grief lasted longer than any moment ever would. I send my condolences and my sympathies to both you, T.K. for your friend’s nephew and all of his family that are affected by this loss, also to you Alana for your granddaughter’s loss and all of her friend’s family that are affected as well.

    Cheers to the both of you.

    1. Life has given you a concentrated dose of experience, Emmy. My sympathies for all the losses you have endured. And thank you for extending the same. And I relate to that loss for words experiences. I lost my best friend to random heart failure at 21 and did his eulogy, That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sometimes, I can only feel. Words often feel quite elusive.

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