Writer’s Workshop: One Day To Live Over
by Jenners • 03/18/2010 • Love and Loss, Writers Workshop • 45 Comments
Time for Writer’s Workshop again!This week I’m choosing Prompt 1: If you had to relive a day in your life what day would it be?
As soon as I saw this prompt, I immediately thought “August 21, 2009.”
In all respects, August 21, 2009 was an ordinary day. In fact, the specifics of the day (what I ate, what book I was reading, what TV shows I may have watched) are lost to me. I know we were getting ready to leave on vacation so there was lots of laundry being done, and I’m sure I was trying hard to keep my vow of packing early enough so I wasn’t rushing around like a crazy person the night before. It was a day like any other day.
So why would I choose to live this day over?
For one simple reason. If I could live this day over, I would do everything the same EXCEPT I would take a few moments out of my day and I would call my parents in Montana. My dad would pick up (as he usually did) and I would say “It’s your daughter.” And he would say “I know … you have a special ring.” (This was our phone answering ritual.)
We would chat for a few minutes about what funny things the Little One was doing, what books we were reading, what goofy things his dogs had done. He’d tell me he was going up Glacier the next day, and I would tell him about our vacation we were packing for. An ordinary conversation in all respects. At the end, we’d end the phone call the same way we ended all our phone calls since I left home.
Me: “Love you, Dad.”
Dad: “Love you too, Jen.”
And I’d hang up and go about the rest of my ordinary day. Never guessing that the next day, August 22, 2009, would be my father’s last day on earth and this phone call that I never made (but wish like hell I had) would be my last conversation with my dad.
Love you, Dad.
Missing you every day,
Pingback: Answering Angie’s Questions » Life ... With Books
This is a post that makes me wish I kept up with my blog reader better,so I could've responded sooner. My {{hugs}} go out to you.
Such sweet sadness. He knows you are thinking of him. He knows how much you love him. Thinking of things you should have done differently serves no good purpose. Treat yourself kindly. He would.
Swung by hoping for one of your games- saw your current post and chuckled. Then I scrolled down and this- well, this tore my heart out. I also regret the call I didn't make, the one I began and well, it didn't happen. My dad also died way too young. (Yep, everyone dies too early, it must feel)
Hugs,
Gel
http://www.SoulCrayons.typepad.com
I'm sorry you lost your dad at such a young age. Seems like he was a fun guy. Great post.
If I remember correctly, though, he went out doing something he loved. I can, however, see why you would want one more conversation with him.
I'm so sorry for your loss. This was a touching post. Sending you positive thoughts and virtual hugs.
This made my heart twist up in tiny little knots. ((HUGS))
Beautiful.
Hugs to you always.
Oh Jen, how hard! It always seems harder when it's unexpected like that! I wish you could relive it again.
I got teary-eyed at this, too. What a poignant post.
What a heartfelt post…I have tears in my eyes. It was so beautifully written.
I wish I'd had that phone call too, Jenners. I know how you feel. XXOO
When my dad died, a wise friend sent me a card with a note that said "We never get over losing our parents." She was right.
I don't think we ever truly stop regretting the calls we didn't make or the words left unsaid either, but it does get easier with time.
Blessings to you!
Margaret
such a sweet post. a strong reminder that we need to remember to just check in any chance we get.
(((hugs)))
Everyday is a gift isn't it!
I know exactly how you feel.
Have a great day!
Melissa
What a beautiful post, Jenners — it brought tears to my eyes. Sending you a virtual hug!
That's such a great photo of your dad; thanks for sharing it!
Oh, Jenners.
Hugs.
Beautifully written. I'm sorry for your loss, your dad sounds like he was a helluva guy.
I agree with you. I knew my dad was going in for an angiogram. I knew he was scared. But I didn't go out and see him the day before. I regret that I didn't even think of driving him and my mother up for the test, then I would have been there for my mom when he passed. These things always eat at the heart for many years. sad
I am touched. Beautiful post.
Stopping by from Mama Kats.
Oh Jenners… this post made me cry. And it made me want to call my parents. And it made me want to hug you.
Hugs to you for sure!
Stoppin by from Mama Kats!
I wish I could just give you a big hug right now. So sorry
It really is the little things that matter in the end, isn't it?
Not what I was expecting from the beginning of your post. So sorry to hear about your dad. These things are never easy.
Maybe what tainted my view of your post is that I too might choose to relive 8/21/09, but for vastly different reasons: It was my fortieth birthday, and it was a day to remember.
Very sweet.
Awww J; that breaks my heart.
My Dad passed away unexpectedly seven years ago. I would have liked to have one last good-bye too. It's so tough. ((hugs))
I'm sure he knew you loved him. That's a really sweet, but sad post.
{{{hugs}}} to you.
So sad.. yet heart-warming.
So very sorry for your loss.
This made me cry.
I hope you know that, even if you weren't able to tell him in a last phone call, HE KNOWS.
xo
I guessed the subject of your post when I read the prompt you chose.
Your dad is still with you, in the many, many things he taught you to love (like reading and poetry); may your memories of him always bring your comfort.
And thank you for reminding us to keep in touch with people we care about.
Oh I know that feeling. Even at 10 I wish I would have/could have told my dad I loved him one more time. At 23 I wish I would have been able to talk to my brother that Memorial day before he died…and when I was 26, I wish like hell I would have come home from MO when my step father was on his deathbed instead of listening to him telling me "Just because my life is ending doesn't mean you should quit living yours"! I hate that we have to lose people and I hate that we will always wish for one more special moment!
*hugs* to you Jen.
Gosh he looks like you in that picture! (or you look like him, I suppose one should say. My father always used to say – when I challenged him I suppose – "I made YOU; you didn't make ME!" Actually, come to think of it, that was probably as close as we got to a "facts of life" talk!)
Well I have to say as soon as I saw the title of the post I knew what it would be about. But knowing I would be sad, I read it anyway, because I love you!!!
Awww… I want to call my dad now.
As soon as I saw that date I had instant goosebumps because I knew what you would be referring to. ((HUGZ!!))
Can you feel me squeezing you through the screen? Because that is just what I am doing. Thank you for posting this. It must have been tough to write, but reminds me not to take anything for granted. Enjoy the day. Erin
Oh you're making me cry.
Hugs.
((hugs))
This post is a real thinker…..
Oh Jenners
I'm so sorry. This just broke my heart. *hugs*
Your post made me tear up and it's reminding me how I should be better at calling my mom-don't know what I would do without her. I still need my mom.
Your post made me tear up and it's reminding me how I should be better at calling my mom-don't know what I would do without her. I still need my mom.
(((HUGS)))
I was driving home from a conference one afternoon when I drove by my mentor's house. I thought, "Maybe I should stop by." But I just kept driving, not entertaining that notion again.
I got a call the next morning–my mentor died in her sleep that night.
It's been four years since her passing, and I'm still feeling badly about not having pulled over and rung the doorbell.