Every time I have surgery, and that has been far too many times to list, I return home from the hospital with renewed vigor and purpose because I am so glad that I’ve survived once again. The skies are bluer, my husband’s eyes are bluer, my mood is bluer still, but I determine that my focus in life will be more positive from now on. I vow to live to the fullest because hospitalization is life at the least pleasant and in fact is quite scary.
I love that, when my husband drives me home, the list of resolutions I tell him about is staggering. Within a week or two, however, my perspective changes. I begin to feel safer and more secure that life will return to the way it was before the last surgery. And I allow it. But when I saw this piece by Erma Bombeck, I thought again about those post-surgical promises. She opened my eyes!
IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER, by Erma Bombeck
(Written after she found out she was dying from cancer)
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the
earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it
melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was
stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried
much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the
fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about
his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer
day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more
while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical,
wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished
every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was
the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, ‘Later.
Now go get washed up for dinner.’ There would have been more ‘I love
you’s’; more ‘I’m sorry’s.’
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…
look at it and really see it … live it and never give it back.
Erma Bombeck was a journalist who wrote about life in general, motherhood and kids. She started writing in her garage at home and soon became a beloved nationally syndicated columnist. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she wrote the following piece. It seems to me that whether or not we have a diagnosis of illness, her words are worth living.
Somehow, I hope that Erma knows we remember her for reminding us to really live each day as if it was our last.
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