I have just finished listening to Ingrid Michaelson's latest album, Human Again. The title of this post was inspired by my favorite track off of it.
I have been itching to blog for days, but it never really occurred to me what to blog about, so I left it alone. I told myself that I should not force my mind to produce something to write about. When the time came, I'd know.
I have just been surfing Facebook, when this link a friend of mine liked appeared on my news feed. It was one of those phenomenal stuff now that dominates the site, a picture, on this instance, of a couple, and a touching story for a caption. The story was a long one so I really would not bother putting it here, also because I am fairly sure I will not be able to cite the source, but it was about the concept of being too late.
I guess, as human beings, we're all guilty of taking things for granted every once in a while. Reading that story, however fictitious it was, made me realize how wrong my assumption of myself was. You see, I may have low self esteem, but more often than not, I satisfy myself by thinking that I am good enough, that I have been good enough and that in case I die today, I have nothing to be ashamed of.
How deeply wrong I was.
One example of this is how I treat my aunt. I respect her, of course, she was the one who raised me like her own child, but sometimes, there are things that even the utmost respect cannot mask. There are things that even respect cannot make an excuse for, like the way I always complain about her cooking, or how I get annoyed when she washes my clothes and I find them ruined with bleach and other stuff.
What I didn't see all these years, that I'm only starting to see now is that my aunt is not getting any younger. Of course, she's making more mistakes than ever because her hands are feeling cramped, or she is overly tired, or her eyes are getting bleary. Still, I never seemed to see any of this. I am spoiled, and I grew up having these things handed over to me, no questions asked. I never had to wash any item of clothing nor did I have to cook a grain of rice if it could be helped.
Anyway, in that story, the husband narrated how he fell out of love with his wife and started spending more time with another woman. His wife, clearly hurt but still noble, asked for a month together before she could give him the divorce he so blatantly asked for. She set some conditions that brought them closer together until one day, her husband realized that he did not want a divorce anymore. He went to the other woman's house, told her that he was staying with his wife, then bought a bunch of flowers and came home, only to find his wife on the bed, dead.
It made me realize that life really is too short to waste any time not being nice to anyone. I know it was just a story, but it has affected me more than it should because I know, too, that it happens in real life. People die all the time, and most of those people die without hearing their loved ones say how much they are loved because we are all too caught up with the idea of "next time". Sometimes, we never even worry about going out and forgetting to tell our moms, or our sisters or brothers, that we love them or care about them, because in our minds, we think it's silly cause we're seeing them again in a few hours or so.
I guess this is the part where the line better safe than sorry comes. Tell them. Tell them now. Or this moment just passes by. Another wasted time.