Tomorrow is an interesting word. We most frequently use it with the air of hope and possibility. Tomorrow holds the idea that I have more time to connect with the world around me. Time to imagine dreams and reach goals. Time to build new relationships and mend old ones. Time to fly kites and catch fireflies. Tomorrow means a new sunrise, a clean slate and the promise of a new adventure.
Except when it doesn’t.
Tomorrow can also be the source of great sadness and regret. Anyone who has suddenly lost a person they love – the word tomorrow can burn like a branding iron. It can mean a missed opportunity to have that last conversation, learn that great lesson, to hear that infectious laughter or see that flash of a smile. It can mean no more talks over wine, no more messages in your in-box, no more voicemails on your phone. It can mean an empty seat at the Thanksgiving table and a giant space where that person once stood.
I am writing this on an airplane – somewhere over Kansas — flying home from the memorial service of a friend whose death still shocks me. I thought traveling the 6000 miles from coast to coast and back — to share the loss with others who loved and respected him — would give me the “closure” I needed to repair of this open wound. It hasn’t. I am three quarters through my journey and am left only with an overwhelming sense of regret. Regret for the choices I made and the others I didn’t.
Simple decisions seemed so small at the time – but as they gather in the pool of my mind – suddenly they seem like a flood.
I’ll send that email and thank him for being my friend…tomorrow.
I’ll call him back and let him how much he matters to me…tomorrow.
I’ll share my gratitude for believing in me…tomorrow.
I’ll tell him about that great new book…tomorrow.
I’ll take the time to have a drink with him…tomorrow.
I’ll write that letter and explain how he made my life larger and brighter…tomorrow.
I live with very few regrets in my life. Perhaps I am lucky in that way. Life has offered me the opportunity to explore, chances to experience, people to teach lessons and time to grow from each. It has presented me with the road maps, warning gates and flashing signs I needed to think things through and make good choices.
Except when it didn’t.
In those moments, I have found myself with a scar that never heals and a sadness that never subsides. In those moments I have learned lessons the hard way and have doomed others to share in the pain of my mistakes. In those moments, I have faced the reality that tomorrow is not always filled with possibility and opportunity.
But as with so many things – regret can offer us the chance to do things better and knowledge to make a different choice the next time. Perhaps on that crisp fall day the laundry can make way for a walk with a friend. On that cold snowy evening the TV can be replaced with talks by the fireplace. That windy day at the beach can offer the opportunity to fly a kite or that blizzard the means to build a snowman.
Procrastination can come with a bitter lesson and lives can be changed by the smallest of gestures. So, when you utter the word tomorrow, ask yourself…Will it will burn with the promise of a new sunrise or the scaring heat of a branding iron? And always remember, it’s the connections we make and the kites we fly – today — that will carry us all in the long run.
