An old friend from high school posted Don’t wait till the funeral to bring the lasagna on his Facebook page in a recent post. Charlie is just a wonderful guy and I am so lucky to have known him. Like many of my classmates from the Class of 1980, we have reconnected thru social media.
So my question is, what does Don’t wait till the funeral to bring the lasagna mean to you?
Charlie posted this some time ago and I saved the saying in a notebook I use for thoughts and topics for this blog. I have waited for the right time and today, I believe, was it.
Chip and I drove to Lee, MA to meet up for lunch with a friend and her sister. Lynda and Toby are just…..easy. Time can go by and we sit down and the conversation flows, laughs take over and the time flies by. This time they brought a friend who melded easily into the fold and the afternoon flew by. Lynda and Toby were up in the Berkshires for a week of R&R. They both live and work in Manhattan and time in the mountains is always a good idea.
Years ago, Lynda and I met when she was a client of mine, back in the 1980’s. We have weaved in and out of each other’s lives in sickness and in health and it was a joy to meet her for lunch. I did not wait until the proverbial funeral to bring the lasagna. THAT is what it means to me. Why do we make time to celebrate someone’s life when they are not there to enjoy it with us? The tears are too late, the memories one sided and the clock stops ticking at that moment. There is no one more call, text or visit.
I am going to get in the launch at 5:45 am one morning and see Jack row up close and personal.
I will make a nail appointment and drive Amelia crazy as we pick polish colors for vacation.
YES: Go to breakfast, ride my bike (basket and all) and hang out with Chip. Zumba can wait.
I love to do a drive by mom’s house for a hug and kiss. Tell her I love her. Maybe even pick up some of her famous popcorn!
That lasagna is not waiting. I will really vacation and turn off work. I will go out for ice cream, jump off the dock and maybe even go tubing. Well, let’s not get crazy now.
To my roommate Patty, looking at me from Heaven. I am sorry I waited with that lasagna. I think of you every time I wear t-strap sandals, eat fresh mozzarella or make goog-a-ley eyes at a hunky NYC fireman.
To my old co-worker Pat, you are in my thoughts and God Speed. Be strong and believe. Soon you will be at peace.
Please make that lasagna NOW and bring it to someone you love or who needs some “homemade lasagna” to get through. Send that get well card. Pick up the phone and CALL.
Pardon the metaphor but I think Charlie had it right. Be in the moment and the moments will carry you through.