Red Room Where the Writers Are

Life is so short. 

As we age, before we check the comics and news we check the obituaries.

Yesterday, checking the obits via the internet for an area my Darling and I chose to make our home,

I read the obit of a dear lady at the County Courthouse, who was fabulous with

whatever we, a group of military widows needed anything under her control. 

The County Clerk, her "boss" was our number one "sponsor and protector".

I remember always thanking her, but I don't recall, telling her "I love you".

Calling the funeral home and asking them to sign my name to "the book" does

not make up for not saying, "I love you for loving us."

Last year, taking personal inventory about friends still alive and those now gone,

I realized some Crossed Over and I'd never told them "I love you".

My pals that I grew up with are from the East Coast to the West Coast and

many places in between.

Thanks to some great telephone systems we are still together.  At times the

calls are three ways. 

Before saying "Goodbye", in unison, we say, "I love you".  We never know

who will be the next one to Cross Over, so we'll have no regrets from that

facet of life.  Our hearts will still hurt, but no regrets.