“There’s no way of knowing that your last good day is Your Last Good Day. At the time, it is just another good day.” That line in itself from TFiOS is something I’ve pondered on the past week since I’ve driven almost twenty-four hours in just a few days. I spent time with my best friends in Albuquerque, enjoyed the New Mexican atmosphere where I gave my last words to my grandmother in a chapel over the phone. I received the news that she passed away that next morning, then drove to Odessa where our family home is, drove onto many other locations for the burial, then my brothers home in Dallas, then onto my hometown. Its been a whirlwind of events, and family which led me thinking about this one quote.
My first night in Odessa consisted of taking down our family home, and dividing out little things before the lawyers come in to appraise the estate, or whatever. I just sat there, and didn’t know how my mom remained so calm (she had been living there since she was five) and this was merely a home we came to for the holidays and summers as grandchildren. Many exciting Christmas’s, Easters, dress up parties, historical story telling, and family gatherings happened in this home for me. We were always moving as kids, but this home remained the exact same since nineteen sixty-four. Now the green carpet will be torn up, the vintage furniture will be hauled out, and all the family pictures removed from the walls. I tried to think of the last time I spent with my grandma, but even then the house was in the process of being packed up, and there were home nurses invading privacy. But still while gathering her Christmas decor its like I could hear her rummaging through the house with us yelling at herself, and us. Its weird. You see, I can’t remember the last good day, or the good family event. Why? Cause at the time, it was just normal, it was like any other.
I never thought about our family Christmas’s, or my brother moving to a different city until it stopped. Now its an act of hoarding any little time I get with my brother, who I now have to drop off at the airport a couple of days later; He used to live right across town. Christmas’s are complicated, and an act of making appearances on each side of the family. Getting everyone together for the holiday feels like trying to schedule a meeting for the United Nations Council. It’s not tradition always, its ever-changing life now.
Christmas’s that were large, and together? They are merely memories on a videotape. My brother living in town? Now its just stories exchanged between he and I before he leaves. The last good day; the lasting memories. Why do you choose to live a miserable life? Why do you choose to make decisions that don’t empower you, but hold you back? What will you have to look back on and cherish when you are too old to barely remember? People wonder why I’ve developed such a chase for adventure, to want to DO things, and create things, because of this! You can’t just pause life and say, “Wait, I’m collecting memories here!” No. It’s your job to create them, making them wonderful, and remember them because of that simply and beautiful line. You never know when life ends, or the opportunity. Put your phone down, your barriers, and try to remember the good days before they become your last.
Song of the week is “Christmas Time is Here” from Vince Guaraldi. Enjoy.