Lessons in the Loss

It’s never too late.” That’s simply not true.

When the phone rang a few nights ago, I knew something was wrong. My friend’s trembling voice on the other end confirmed my fears. Through her sobs, she told me that a beloved member of the community had unexpectedly passed away.

And now it’s too late. Too late for that visit to his home. Too late for a ride on his houseboat. Too late to learn more about his impressive career.

I met Holley Midgley a few months ago, and we immediately hit it off. We were particularly bound by our mutual passion for capturing and preserving the stories of community leaders. A few feet from my desk sits a box with microphones and a recorder, the gear he was going to use to interview folks as part of a new documentary project we planned to work on together.

And now it’s too late.

I regret that we didn’t get a chance to start that project. I regret not making time for that visit, for that boat ride.

But more than anything, I regret not having more time to get to know my new friend. He was a fascinating character, and I know my life would have been richer for deepening that relationship.

The feelings of regret and lost opportunity continued with the news that Bruce BonFleur passed away. We had several phone conversations over the past couple of years but never met in person. I am honored to continue the tradition of The Groundhog that he began more than 40 years ago, and I had plans to interview him about the launch of this newspaper (as well as the many other contributions he made to Mentone’s culture and community). And now it’s too late.

This isn’t the first death that has shaken me this year. Two long-time friends died a few weeks apart at the beginning of the year, one just shy of being a centenarian, the other half that age and a former coworker of mine. I said goodbye to both while wishing I had spent more time with them in their final months.

As I write this, in the quiet of a morning, I am once again reminded that the richness of life is in the relationships we build. It’s in the visits, the boat rides, the time we spend sharing stories and revealing the layers of what has defined our human experience thus far.

I find myself once again motivated to be more intentional about those relationships. I hope you are, too.

It’s never too late to start. Until it is.