No 4,000 Weeks for Tigger
Yesterday, I discovered that as the calendars flipped to 2025, a college friend passed away in her sleep. She had been battling cancer, and a positive update she shared on Christmas Eve made me think that I should reach out to her since I was on winter break and we hadn’t spoken directly in a long time. Sadly, that conversation will never happen.
I’m reading 4,000 Weeks by Oliver Burkeman, which is all about time management because our current life expectancy is roughly four thousand weeks. It's not my typical read, but a trusted friend suggested it, and thus, I’m reading and enjoying it.
In our post-COVID world, I’ve already put into place much of what Burkeman writes about. My priorities and decisions have evolved because I’ve embraced that there is only so much I can control and that my time is limited. All of us could be gone instantly, and then all the things we were concerned or worried about wouldn’t matter to us anymore. I promise that it isn’t as dark as it sounds. It is the truth for us all and has removed a burden I’d carried for decades.
Since the kids moved out, Laura and I have been trying to do more outside our house. Last weekend included checking out a new independent bookstore and a local restaurant we’ve been saying we had to try for years. This weekend, the weather is supposed to be nice so perhaps we’ll go for a walk in the woods.
When I was traveling the globe, speaking and consulting for a living, I saw my friends more often. Many of them would attend the conferences I was speaking at, or we’d grab a meal while I was in town. The hugs and conversations were constant.
Social media gives us all a false sense of connection. Since we can see what our friends are doing via their photos and brain slurpees, we know what they are up to. But that is not a connection, and I need conversations beyond comments on posts.
I’m actively trying to say yes more often, whether to have that coffee catch-up that has been talked about for months or to visit that friend I’ve wanted to take photographs with for years. I’m sick of saying, “I should do that,” and then something happens that prevents me from ever being able to.
My dear friend Tigger didn’t get her four thousand weeks on earth, breaking my heart. I’m grieving because this bright ray of sunshine is no longer there, and I didn’t follow my instinct to reach out and say hello when I could.
We must ensure we are doing what fulfills us with the weeks we have. I hate that it took someone’s passing to remind me again of this importance.
