I’m having lunch with a friend and ask about a man we both know. She answers matter-of-factly. “Oh, he died of a heart attack a few years ago.”
Died? That can’t be possible. True, Jay and I had not been in contact recently, but I always assumed we’d reconnect somehow.
Jay was a Christian minister and I am a Unitarian, and we used our differences to explore the big questions. What was the purpose of religion, we asked.
“To support each other in our quest for the abundant life,” Jay said, and further alarmed his congregation by announcing, “Life is an open question.”
Then he transferred to a more liberal church in another state and we lost touch. The phrase sounds so casual, as if it happened by accident. But we let it happen. In books and movies, all the loose ends get tied up. Foolishly, I thought life would be the same.
“When everything is said and done,” we say, as if that were possible. But while there’s time, I must say and do the things that matter.
Must stay in touch.
