My poem, Every Single Day was inspired by one of my father’s favorite sayings. In a joking manner, he’d often say that it would be better if we were all born with expiration dates stamped on our forehead, like a carton of milk. In that way, we could better plan the route we choose to take during our journey on earth, as we would then know definitively the date of our ultimate departure. He always had a unique way of getting his point across.
My father was born into a family of very modest means. He was a severe asthmatic as a child. I remember his stories about sitting on the porch in the
As far back as I can remember, he had always been a strong man, both physically and mentally. He was to me, what is often described as, “a man’s man.” He was as tough as nails. An airplane mechanic by trade, a fisherman by choice, he had seen his share of pain.
In 2003 while driving to my friend Nancy’s house, I was talking to my father on my cell phone as he shared with me the words I will never forget hearing. He informed me that the doctors had given him only a few months to live. Shattered, I entered my friend’s house with feelings of both despair and disbelief.
Months later, I went to stay with him in
After chemotherapy had left him feeling ill and weak, I remember asking him why he'd refused to consider some of the out-of-town specialists who practiced more unique and modern medical procedures, some of which I’d recently read about. His answer to me again exemplified the attitude he had chosen to adopt to face this devastating change of events. Relating it to the mechanic in his soul, he replied with a hint of sarcasm, “Why overhaul the engine when the transmission is shot?”
My father’s strength during this time was nothing short of amazing. I remember when he told me that getting cancer had proven to be one of the best things that had ever happened to him. When I questioned what seemed to me to be a very odd statement, he shared with me a box filled with letters and cards. Each had been received from a family member or friend, some he’d not heard from in several years. Each expressed the love, respect and gratitude the individual felt for him because of the positive part he’d played in their life at one time or another.
These gifts, tokens of love and gratitude, meant so much to my father. They justified his existence in some way. They were written proof that his time here on earth had made a difference in so many lives. I knew then what he’d meant by his statement. Knowing that he was terminally ill, and being given the extra time to have the opportunity for his loved ones to express to him their true feelings and for him to do the same, helped him accept and cope with the inevitable. I've often thought that it is a sad statement of our times when it takes a life altering event to get us to put down our defenses long enough to express to another what we feel deep in our heart.
Another example of his positive outlook and disposition during this time was the way he referenced the gravesite he had chosen for himself to save my brothers and I this difficult and painful task. He informed me with a sly grin one day, “Well, I finally got to purchase some waterfront property…”
I really didn’t comprehend this statement until I sat motionless beside his open grave on the day of his funeral. With silent and continuous tears rolling down my face and the preacher’s comments fading into a dull, monotonous tone in the back of my mind, I glanced to my left. My eyes fell upon the reflection of the sunlight from the dark water of the small lake adjoining the grounds near his final resting place. I managed a smile of acknowledgment as I nodded my head in understanding and silently uttered the words to myself…“Yeah pop, you finally did get your waterfront property…”
In essence, my father taught me invaluable lessons about truly living my life while he was in the midst of losing his own. He taught me that we are not guaranteed a tomorrow and that many of us will not have the opportunity that he was given to know our approximate “expiration date.” We need to tell our loved ones often how we feel and not wait until tomorrow. These days are so hectic and busy and minutes dissipate into hours and days before our very eyes. That is why we need to learn to slow down enough to fully experience this life and appreciate the blessings with which we are granted. Then, and only then, will we be able to truly live…Every Single Day.
Every Single Day
Copyright 2006 Linda Ellis
Though we may battle our opponent — time,
someday we must admit defeat.
As the days run into weeks…and years,
too soon, a lifetime is complete.
But if the span of every lifetime
were cut into pieces with a knife,
then every single day would be
…a single slice of life.
And we’d be certain of the days we have
to laugh, to love…to live,
knowing just how much to take from life
...and just how much to give.
We’d divide our time accordingly,
say and do the things we’d need
because every single day to us
would then be, guaranteed.
But life is not indefinite;
time continues its forward stride…
and it may end before the laughter’s done
and all the tears are cried.
So do what you feel you have to do
and say what you need to say.
Seize all the life contained within
every single day.
Say “I Love You” more often,
than just every now and then…
For you may not have the chance tomorrow
to say it once again.
Don’t put off true happiness.
Don’t put your hopes and dreams on a shelf.
Live every single day
as if it were a lifetime, in itself.
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Excerpt from upcoming gift book:
Every Single Day
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