You never know ...
Yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Today was once that all elusive dream of ‘tomorrow’. Now it’s here. Enjoy it before it’s gone forever.
One day last month I was talking to a man. The next week I heard that he was dead. He was the same age as me. In fact, he was just younger than me. He had been born in the same year but he looked a lot older than me, and that’s not just me who said this: he said it himself. He thought I was about 20 years younger than he was. We always talked a lot when we met up.
As I walked near his shop I planned to stop in there and get some special biscuits. He called me the ‘ginger biscuit lady’ because I always bought packets of thin ginger biscuits from his delicatessen shop. I called him Alistair. That was his name. He was lovely and kind. Always had a few minutes to talk about life and other things.
He went unexpectedly. That’s how the newspapers reported it. I also experienced it in the same way: unexpected.
I wrote this the morning of his funeral. I saw cards of condolence in his shop window as I passed by yesterday. I was in shock when I realised why the shop was closed. The beautiful soft pastel coloured drawing of him in the window only served to emphasise that there was a new void in the world: it was beautiful, but one dimensional and so silent.
There was no laughter attached to it, no smile, no depth of being.
It represented him, but it was not him. He was already gone.
We never know when someone will be gone. Let’s enjoy them today.