Two Sad Stories and Eighteen Roses

Let me tell you about two sad stories and eighteen roses. In the same week, I became aware of two sad stories. The first one involved a story of an eighteen-year-old male whose father was a pastor. The son was celebrating his achievement of graduating from high school by taking a hiking trip. He fell 50 feet to his death when he slid off some slippery rocks while crossing a stream at the edge of a waterfall.

What made this tragedy particularly poignant was that the family lived near me. Although I did not know them, we definitely had crossed paths. Decades earlier, I spoke in the fellowship hall of the church where the pastor preached. I had driven on the same roads his family drove on. My son and I had been on the same college campus that the deceased had planned to attend. Strangely, I learned of the tragedy not on the local news but on a national news subscription on my phone, for the deceased died in another state. No pun intended, but the tragedy hit too close to home.

So Many Years To Go

The second sad story was also close to home. An acquaintance of mine whom I used to chat with frequently told me her husband had died. I could hear the pain in her voice when we talked, and I felt the pain through the text messages we shared. Her story pricked my heart, perhaps even more so than the first one. They had struggled for a long time before getting married. They had only been married two years before he died suddenly. I’m sure they had good years together even before their wedding ceremony. Still, it seems like a great loss that they hadn’t married earlier and had more good years together. Likewise, it is sad that he left her with so many years left to go. (An assumption on my part)

Perhaps I am projecting a little, for I feel like I have wasted so many opportunities with people. I have heard of people who died with no regrets. I feel sure that I will have many regrets when I pass away. Additionally, there are people with whom I will regret not spending more time with if they perish before me.

Mushy

I need to make the most of my time. I need to treat the people I care about better. That is why I went out and bought a large bouquet of roses for someone I’m in a situationship with. I told her, “I know you don’t like mushy, and I don’t like mushy much either.” I then told her these two sad stories. Then, I told her I would rather give her flowers in person than put them on her grave. So, I gave her two sad stories and eighteen roses.