No Do-Over’s

We’ve been down this road before but I think about it often I suppose.  Today, it was brought to my attention in a FaceBook post.  There was an article in The New York Times about a Tumblr blog called “The Last Message Received.”  It’s a feed created by a 16 year old girl that has hundreds of people submit entries containing the last text or voice mail or actual words spoken to them by someone that meant a lot to them.  It’s quite gripping at times.  It’s not all about people who have passed away either.  There are some best friend fallouts, breakups and parent/child scuffles among others.  Along with the text is usually a brief description to give some backstory to the text.  As with anything in today’s social media world, authenticity can come in to question but assuming that most are accurate, some of them can really put you in your feelings.

It got me thinking about some of my own last moments with people over the years.  We didn’t have text messaging when I was in high school.  (We barely had telephones, right Z?).  But I still have some pretty vivid memories of the last time I spent time with or talked with someone that meant something to me and then they were just gone.  Some of the last moments were written on the wall and some of them hit me out of the blue.  In either case, it really puts some of our daily interactions and conversations that we take for granted in perspective.  We don’t go through our daily routine thinking we might be having our last encounter with someone but it can happen in an instant.

I was fortunate to have many friends from many walks of life in high school.  But there is one friend that spent life from 5th grade through 12th grade with me. We spent weekends at each other’s houses.  We would hang out after school.  Of course, we also had plenty of classes together.  I remember some cool times with him.  His step dad was a DJ for a radio station and one Saturday we got to “spin some records” on air, which was awesome.  We went fishing, collected baseball cards and rode his motorcycle around his big yard.  In fact, we used to time each other to see who could make the fastest lap.  I didn’t have a motorcycle so he was more experienced.  When I would shift the wrong way, I’d want to try and start over and it was always, “No Do-Over’s”.  He once convinced me to watch “Lost Boys” when my mom had explicitly instructed me to avoid the horror movies.  It was his house where I first tried the “Bloody Mary” in the bathroom mirror gag.  It didn’t work.

Some time late in our senior year though, things took a turn.  We both were headed in different directions and had separate sets of friends.  Even our mutual friends had chosen to go with one of us or the other.  At times we were pretty nasty with each other.  The last real conversation I remember having with him was out in front of my house.  Pretty sure we didn’t hold anything back that day.  I think we both still liked each other but didn’t like that we weren’t the same people we were when we were friends.  We both dispised that other people were now considered our best friends and being teenagers made us overly sensitive and emotional I suppose.  After that conversation, that was it.  I don’t remember seeing him much after that.  I’m positive we didn’t talk after that.  Like really talk, something more than a nod or hello.  

A couple of years shy of our 10 year class reunion, he lost his life.  He was actually in the hospital at the same time a family member was in the hospital.  That was how I found out.  I was flushed with emotions and thoughts about how our lives wound up.  I was remorseful about the way our friendship ended.  I kicked myself for being an 18 year old toolbag.  I cried for a lost friend that hadn’t been a friend for 8 years.  I’ve thought often about what I could have done differently or how I could have made amends.  I even remember thinking that one day we would fix it when we both grew up and matured.  I never got that chance and I regret it.  I think about him more than I ever imagined I would the day he left my house, our friendship in ashes.  Truth now – I miss him.  I miss the fun we had and the things we had in common.  I’ll never know if we would’ve patched things up and become friends again.  But it hurts knowing that it’s impossible now. And it hurts that I never got to apologize to him for my part in the demise of our friendship.

In life, sometimes, there are no do-over’s.  You make a decision, you say something, you walk away and that’s it.  There’s no going back later and making amends.  Sometimes it because you’re stubborn or prideful.  Sometimes it’s because the person you walk away from doesn’t want to talk to you again.  Sometimes, in a worst case scenario, that person isn’t around anymore for you to patch it up with.  All you are left with is memories and regret.  Regret can eat you up inside.  It can make you question your own character and you’re own intentions.  But when you can’t discuss matters later when you have cooled off or grown up, it’s what you’re left with.  And it stings at times.

You’d think that this is a grand lesson to learn and grow from.  It is and it enters my mind at the strangest times.  But I still say things I regret.  I still write people off.  I still try to end an argument with a zinger.  We all do.  It’s human nature to try and get the last word in an argument.  You just never plan on it actually being the LAST word.  But in reality, every word we say could be our last.  We are not in control.  We don’t get to decide when it’s over for us or for anybody else.  In that, we don’t get to end a conversation or a visit with the assumption that it’ll all be ok tomorrow when we get some time apart.  

I am probably perceived in a lot of different ways by peers, co-workers, Facebook friends and even followers of this blog.  Some of that is my own doing and some of that is just perception.  I’m probably seen by some as a little emotional or sensitive at times.  I won’t run from that.  Part of it comes from this life lesson.  I got to sit down with my Grandaddy and tell him that I loved him and I would miss him.  He was gravely ill and his time was up.  We knew it.  I didn’t leave anything unresolved.  But that’s rarer than we think.  We probably picture ourselves on our death bed at an old age saying our goodbyes and clearing the air one more time.  Odds are, it’s not going to happen that way.  Although I have a long way to go, I’d prefer and am trying to avoid leaving things unresolved.  That’s where the emotion and sensitivity comes from.  Because in real life, there is no courtesy foul, no erasure, no cut and retake.  So if I enjoy hanging out or talking or playing softball or Cornhole with you or beating you in bowling, I’m going to let you know.  It might seem overbearing at times too. But I feel like I better tell you when I’m thinking it because as my old friend would say, “No Do-Over’s.”

J-Dub

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