Say the thing
There are some things I wish I’d said to my sister before she died. I wish I’d told her how much better she was than her circumstances. And how much I respected her for that. I wish I told her how much I admired her for being funny and cool—even while dealing with stage 4 cancer. I wish I’d just told her that I loved her.
And I really really wish I wasn't about to write the fucking clichè you’re about to read. But I always figured I’d say these things at the right time. And that there would be more time.
Let that marinate for a second. Lauren had stage 4 cancer for 6+ years and I didn't yet have the sense of urgency to say the things.
I’m not beating myself up about this. It’s human nature.
But it does have me thinking about why we don’t say the things. We’re busy. We’re worried it’ll come off badly. We’re not sure. It feels weird. What if….? It’ll sound stupid…
Later always feels like a better time.
Which would be a great plan if you could be sure there would be a later. But seriously, you just don’t know. You can’t know.
So just say the fucking thing.