Every Day

“I just want you to know I had THE best day of work yesterday since I started,” RG Daughter told me, a smile apparent with every word.

I listened to her tell me every detail of every successful minute she had enjoyed, and as happy as I was for her, I ached to see her in person, to wrap her in my arms and tell her how much I love her, and how proud I am. The best I could do was send a verbal hug over a sketchy cell connection.

“Um, yeah, I have to have my appendix out tomorrow morning,” RG Son told me two weeks ago when I was finishing up a busy Saturday night shift.

“And you’re not in the hospital tonight?” I asked, appalled. I knew he had not felt well all week. Appendix? Surgery? And he was still at home?

“Hang on, I think that’s my surgeon calling on the other line,” he said. So I hung on in silence, obsessing on all the worries that one can have about a sick kid, even if he is a grown kid.

“Yeah, so they want me to come back to the hospital tonight, it turns out. Surgery is at 8:45 a.m.”

“Okay, okay,” was all I could say for a moment. “Are you well enough to get yourself back there?”

“The hospital is so close I could walk there, Mom. I’m fine.” As I heard him sound so calm, so matter-of-fact, my mind raced about how I could wing my way out of the Keys and up to Ohio–at midnight on a Saturday. I couldn’t. All I could do was tell him to take good care and that I would try to reach a family friend to be with him prior to surgery. I cried when he hung up, because that was all I could do. He is recovering quite nicely, a sore incision the last reminder of a sudden, unexpected health issue.

A young, beloved bartender–just a year older than RG Son–died quite suddenly yesterday. He was one of the good ones, a giant teddy bear of a young man who harbored an old soul. His manager had to make the call to tell his parents. Another close friend and a minister drove four hours to pick them up at the airport late last night. I would give anything to be able to repair their shattered world and make the horrible, horrible bad dream it all feels like this morning go very far away.

Love them. Tell them how much. Hug them as best you can. Every single day.






9 responses to “Every Day”

  1. Laundramatic Avatar

    I hate when people die. Young, old, nice or mean. That’s why we gotta spend every minute on this planet like its our last and, above all, tell our loved ones how much they mean to us.


  2. njm Avatar


    I’ve read your blog for years, but have never commented. I do so now for two reasons. My mother just went home after spending 10 days with me while I had surgery and started recovery. I think she was as relieved to be here as I was to have her.

    As for losing good people too soon, that happened here recently. It was shocking. And feeling unable to do anything to make is the most frustrating, impotent feeling I have ever had.

    Thanks for all your work, and writing.

  3. savannah Avatar

    everyday, sugar, everyday! another beautiful/meaningful piece for which i thank you again! xoxox

  4. Sarah Avatar

    Oh, it is always so shocking to read these things–much less to live them. I am so sorry about the death of your fellow bartender. My prayers are with you and with his family. Glad to hear that your son is recovering and your daughter is happy in her job. I miss that my girlie is so far away from me and I am forever thankful for Skype!

  5. Sarah Avatar

    May I just correct that to say that I miss my darling daughter, who lives so far away from me.

  6. L. Avatar

    Yes, hug, love, think of them every day (hugs) for you and family RG.

  7. LKR Avatar

    Thanks for your beautiful writing – this is a great post.

  8. jay Avatar

    thank you for that … I will : )