Sunday, August 26, 2007

Call a friend!

A friend died this week. . . an old, old friend. At one time, we saw more of each other than our wives. Most of the basic skills I learned that provided me a successful career in the business I was in, I learned from him. We didn’t always get along. In fact, there were times when we yelled at each other and treated each other with distain, but through all that, he held me to a high standard of action that was second to none. I learned a lot from him. I never told him how much his mentoring meant in my life.

I’d been meaning to give him a call the past year or so. I hadn’t talked to him in years and I thought we could have a pretty enjoyable conversation if we got together. I never did and now I feel a certain sense of emptiness. I’ve felt this before. It’s when there just is no closure on a relationship or someone’s passing. Had we talked a few months or a year ago and had a big laugh, I wouldn’t feel like this. I know that’s true from experience.

So why am I writing this? So that when I say this, maybe one person reading this will take my sage advice (I am the sagacious Hillbilly, afterall).
Go look up the number, pick up the phone and call someone you’d really like to talk to who had some importance in your life. It might be your last opportunity. You will feel good about it and they will feel good about it. Be kind to them and yourself.

2 comments:

girl6 said...

I' going to call my college roomate. She called me on New Year's day and I never called her back. Then she called me two days ago and her message was cheerful and happy to hear my voice on the answering machine--no hard feelings.

I'm an asshole.

Thanks, Hillbilly. I'm going right now.

SagaciousHillbilly said...

Cool SpockJ. Read some of your blog. You're a funny freaky thang aint ya?
Hope to see you back soon.

Not In Vain

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

Emily Dickinson