Wisdom for Those Concerned

I want to get better at letting people know I’m thinking about them. You don’t know how long you have them. How long they have you.

I have a ton of good memories.

They’re often linked to music and some sort of experience. A couple days ago I was listening to music on shuffle and a song I haven’t heard in a while came on. It immediately reminded me of a barbecue where one of my best friends introduced me to the song. They were trying to figure out the lyrics and I interjected with the obvious, “Why don’t you just Google it?”. No, we wanted to relive the days before Google and cell phones. The days when you really had to rack your brain to remember some obscure thing you heard in the past.

This is a good memory.

I don’t know why memories tied to music stick with me so prominently, but it was like I was there. The memory was so strong I immediately texted my friend about this memory. It was a quick interaction, but he remembered. Brought us both laughter.

I’ll hear a song by Enya and immediately think of my Mum. She would always play Enya albums while she cleaned, among many others. We would always sit down as a family to eat dinner and have music playing in the background. Which makes me think of every time we’d play the 1978 Jeff Wayne’s Musical Version of War of the Worlds on cassette tape with Richard Burton while eating spaghetti bolognese. I know, oddly specific, but my brain flutters around like a butterfly (Thanks Dad). I want to recreate and relive these moments.

These are good memories.

Sometimes I have absolutely ridiculous ones. Like a sink reminding me of my Grandad. Yes, I just said a sink. The faucet spits out water similar to a thick stream you would see in a garden hose identical to the sink in my Grandad’s downstairs bathroom. How I wish I could share that I think of him often.

This is a good memory.

Letting them know you remember a small memory shows them how important they are to you. Some people show appreciation in a much more grandiose manner. I’ll admit, I’m not the best with that. I hold onto these memories and don’t always speak up. I just sit there chuckling to myself like a maniac. It’s even better when you drift off to these thoughts and have to stifle laughter because it’s inappropriate to laugh during certain circumstances. Doesn’t that always make it funnier?

Is there something you would’ve said if you didn’t have them tomorrow? A lot of my decisions are swayed with one question. Will I regret not doing it when I’m 80?

Think of those closest to you and remind them of the good times. It’s always a good pick me up when someone reflects on the good ‘ole days. Tell them you love them. Could be exactly what they needed to hear.

Food for thought.