Many people have stereotypical ideas about writers. One of these ideas is the writers like to write when they’re depressed. For some writers, this may be true. But I am not one of those writers. I don’t like to write when I’m depressed. It’s actually one of the things I least want to do when I feel this way. Writing is about sharing your feelings with others; in an unhappy state, sharing is the last thing I want to do. Instead, I want to burrow under the blankets and hibernate, as I want to do today.
But I did promise myself that every Sunday this year I would blog. And I like to keep my promises, especially those I make to myself.
“Why are you depressed today?” you might ask. It’s because I lost someone I care about this weekend in a tragic, unexpected accident. He was only 29 years old. Because his mother wants her privacy at this unbearable time, I won’t name this young man or how he died. It’s not really the point anyway. The point is that he is gone too soon, and we are all devastated. I am all the more distraught because it had been a long time—much too long—since I talked to him last.
Sure, I sent him the standard Christmas email every year and the occasional group update. But I let myself get too busy in my school work and catching up on other chores to actually pick up a telephone, to call, to ask “What are you up to? How are you doing?” I let life get in the way of living. And now he isn’t living anymore. I’m all out of chances to ask what he’s up to and how he’s doing. The answers now are “Nothing. I’m dead.” Final.
I could go on, but the tears in my eyes are blurring the screen. The only thing more I want to say is this:
Take the time to talk to the people you care about, whether they live near or far. Take the time to speak to them or, better still, see them face to face. Don’t rely on electronic communication to do the job for you. Those people may not always be around to talk to.
Please, today, connect directly with just one person you haven’t connected with in a while. One day that person may be gone too soon, and you will wish, like I do, that you had been a better friend or family member.