Two years ago today, June 28, 2001, I lost my Dad. He had battled Parkinson's Disease for some 18 years. I never had a rift with my parents, but I did move 1200 miles away from Houston at age 20 and never got to spend as much time with them as an adult as I would have liked. That has always and will always sadden me a bit. Now my mother is alone and I'm still 1200 miles away with a life, a wife and 4 kids who can't just be transplanted to Texas. Trite as it sounds, appreciate your parents while you have them because one day (any day) will be your last with them on this earth. Speechifying is over.
Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine. Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday. Do one thing every day that scares you. Sing. Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours. Floss. Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself. Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how. Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements. Stretch. Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't. Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone. Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's. Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own. Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room. Read the directions, even if you don't follow them. Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly. Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young. Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel. Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders. Respect your elders. Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out. Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85. Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth. But trust me on the sunscreen.
I am sorry to hear that, giddy. My parents are a very important part in my life. I have always been close to my mother, so much, that my father likes to say that she has "babied" me. As for my father, the relationship has not been as close as the one with my mom, but we have made strides recently in getting along even better than before. I have complained and sometimes wished that I had different parents (especially fathers), but I realize now that my parents did the best they could in raising me and I am very lucky and fortunate to have been their son. I can only hope to be in the same ballpark with them when it comes to raising my kids (if that ever happens). But, I know it will be a very sad day(s) when they die. I don't even want to think about it, but I know it will happen. And I also know that will be the toughest thing for me to go through in my life.
I remember that song Jackie....who was it by again? It was one of the wierdest things I'd ever heard the first time I heard it.
Baz Luhrmann (the director). He doesn't speak/sing it, I think, but it is attributed to him. I think it was part of the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack.
Giddyup, Sorry to hear about this sad anniversary. My thoughts are with you and yours. Your post definitely made me think about the relationship factor with parents. Nobody lives forever. I haven't spoke to my Ma in over 5 years after we were unable to look past our great differences. It does pain me that we may never have a mother-son relationship again. + Cod
I don't even want to try and imagine how devestated I'll be when I lose my parents. Luckily, I only spent a less than normal amount of time being one of those annoying teenagers who hates their parents. I went through that phase for like half a year and I've spent the rest of my life not taking them for granted. Sorry about the sad anniversary, giddyup.
My dad died Oct 1, 1999, at 58 yrs. Cancer. It sux. I miss him. I miss my kids knowing him, him knowing them, me. Sometimes I talk into the empty night air, but mostly I just feel alone.
My dad died May 24, 2002 of a heart attack at the age of 50. No one was expecting it but unfortunately no one was surprised. My dad and I were not on speaking terms at the time which was unfortunate but because of his lifestyle was unavoidable. I miss my dad because at times he was my very best friend. I prayed my whole life that things could have been different in his life and between us. He had such potential to be a great man but alcohol and drugs can absolutely ruin a life. I dont know if anyone here battles with alcoholism but if you do, get help. Seriously get help because it devastates a family. Do it for yourself so that you can be happy. Do it for your spouse and children so that they can enjoy you and their own lives. Do it for your parents because no matter how old you are, you are still their baby. The one thing that makes me happy is that I know for sure my dad was a Believer and I know I will see him again. I miss you dad and cannot wait to see you again. I love you past the sky.
Giddyup, My feelings and heart are with you too.. I lost my Mom to cancer April 23rd, 2001 so I can definitely relate. I miss her terribly, but I know she is in a place without pain. My Dad has just started dating again and that is taking some getting used to.. I'm glad you posted the importance of showing love to your family because you never know how much or how little time you'll have to show them that you care. Gus.
