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“There’s a party tomorrow night if you want to go?” Tim asked.
He was a former student of my dad who graduated a few years prior in the electrical trade at a nearby vocational-technical school. I know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites, but Tim was clearly preferred by my dad—they stayed in touch well after graduation.
Tim worked as an apprentice at a busy electrical company while also picking up shifts at a local gas station for extra money. The past year or so I had made a habit of swinging by the tiny two-pump gas station where Tim was the only attendant on shift, and we would chat between customers. On nights the weather was nice after he was off work, we’d climb the water tower near my house, talking until well after sunset.
At barely eighteen years old, I was inexperienced with guys and dating—I’d always been more “one of the guys.” I couldn’t tell if he was simply informing me there was a party, or if he wanted to go with me.
“I don’t know,” I said, even though I wanted to say yes.
I didn’t want to say too much. I was worried about looking foolish if he wasn’t interested in me.
I beat myself up over this (in)decision the following day. I picked up the phone only to put it down again. I had no idea what to say. Later that night lying in bed listening to the peepers chirp outside my window, I knew I made the wrong decision.
I had over-complicated things. I could have just gone to the party. I could have let whatever was going to happen, happen. I decided I would just swing by the gas station to talk to Tim in person and apologize for acting like an idiot.
The next morning, I woke to the doorbell and several loud knocks at the front door.
Checking the clock, I noticed it was before seven a.m. I made my way down the hall to the front door. Tim’s dad was standing on the front porch. I opened the door, the cool September morning air rushing in around me.
“I need to talk to your dad,” Tim’s dad said.
I knocked on the door to my dad’s office. He had fallen asleep in his recliner last night. After waking him we walked down the hall together. I hadn’t connected the dots in my mind, the reason why someone would show up to the so early house unannounced.
As soon as my dad appeared in view, tears spilled out of Tim’s father’s eyes, “Tim was killed in a car accident last night.”
There was a sharp realization our time here isn’t unlimited.
We never know when suddenly there won’t be another sunset to watch.
The heaviness of every word I never had the courage to say filled my chest. I stayed stuck for a while, living in a past shrouded with regret. I wondered if I had been there, would Tim still be alive? I blamed myself for not speaking up.
Eventually, I came to understand I couldn’t live in past. I could visit it.
I could take the lesson I needed to learn and move forward differently in the future.
The harsh reality is we have no idea how long we are here for, so it’s best to not leave anything unsaid. As long as we speak from a place of care and compassion it’s best to say exactly what’s in our hearts while we have the chance.
“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid, and deeds left undone.” ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe
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