Someone Is Going to Die Without Knowing How You Feel
And that is a bigger tragedy than death itself
How many times have you seen this on social media, in a movie, at a funeral? Someone dies, and an instant outpouring of grand gestures and great speeches about the dead guy come flooding in for the world to hear about.
They tell everyone about the impact the dead guy made but had never told him to his face while he was alive…when it mattered.
Why do people wait until someone is dead and gone to let the world know how great they were?
Stop waiting to let others know they matter.
Why wait until someone is gone to mention how significant they were? Why cry, “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” after someone is gone?
Because here’s the thing. Death is supposed to happen, and it happens all the time. It happens suddenly, and then it’s too late.
You have to live with regrets and unspoken words while we, the dead, are finally free. Nobody is afraid of anything up here and we love everyone else. It is utterly blissful.
Death is not the actual tragedy. Life is.
The tragedy is that you’re all roaming around down there, afraid to say how you feel because it may come across as weird. Of course it feels weird — because nobody does it so we’re not accustomed to hearing how wonderful we are.
After I died, my mother received an onslaught of messages telling her how wonderful I was.
Of course, she already knew, she’s my mom. She always told me how great of an impact I made and encouraged me to keep doing more of it.
The messages that meant the most to her came from people who were actively involved in my life. Those sentiments felt genuine because those people were part of my everyday existence.
The messages that meant the least came from people who ignored me in my adult life but then acted as if my passing had devastated them. Those were the people who could have made a difference but chose not to.
I was right there. Any one of them could have reached out to say I was important, that they believed in me, that I made an impact.
Now it’s too late.
Two days after I crossed over my mother posted the following on Facebook. She wrote this because she meant it and she hoped it would reach everyone who read it:
“No one had the privilege of knowing and understanding this spirited human the way I did. I’m his mom, I knew all his big dreams and desires, even though he struggled immensely with turning them into reality. Creating an incredible life is a lofty goal and 28 years just wasn’t enough time to achieve it all.
The brightest light in my life has moved on to a much easier path. While he will be missed more than words could ever explain, he only has one duty to carry out now, which is to come visit me in my dreams.
Posting this on social media is not to gain sympathy or attention, it’s to pass on a message to hug your children. Place value in their dreams. Support them NO MATTER WHAT they’re going through. Live as though if they were gone tomorrow, you would have no regrets. Tell them you love them every single day because another day is never promised. Don’t leave words unspoken.
We don’t get to keep anyone forever so do everything in your power to let your children know they matter right now. TODAY. My son mattered to me tremendously every single day.
We can only hope our children leave an indelible mark in this world while they’re here because that will be all we have to hold onto when they’re gone. This young man, my best friend, leaves a deep, untouchable mark on my soul as he moves on to his much brighter afterlife.
June 4, 1992 — September 29, 2020.”
The beauty in those words she wrote is that I knew all those things when I was alive. That is what mattered.
These ‘memoirs of a dead guy’ are lovingly written by a mother who lost her son on September 29th, 2020. His life stories and struggles are compelling and she writes as a means to connect to others who may have similar stories to tell.
