We all need reminders. The small ones can be on your phone or your fridge. The big ones should be more prominent. At age 42, overworked to a ludicrous degree, I had the two words “Make Time” tattooed high up on my right leg. The tattoo is blurring, but the message is loud and clear: make time for what matters, especially experiences with people you care about.
Last week, I had a beer with two old friends, Ian and Molly, close friends themselves. It was the second of two recent get-togethers, years overdue. We finally made time.
Molly and her husband, Harri, were ice sailing yesterday on the local lake. She sailed into open water. He and a friend tried to save her. The friend managed to pull himself out of the water and get to a cellphone on shore. It took precious time for rescuers to reach the lake and then reach my friends. They were rushed to hospital. Molly didn’t make it. Harri survived.
Of course accidents happen. Of course we can lose people in an instant. And again and again, we forget about life’s fragility. And fail to make time. Until we are reminded.