Small Hours

I’m watching a play. There are two 20-something aged girls in pyjamas, curled up in over-sized armchairs facing the audience. Over the next 45 minutes I listen to their conversations. The ones that happen in the small hours of the morning, when best friends talk about everything and nothing simultaneously. I know these hours and friends well. Immediately memories start playing out in my mind. One friend inebriatedly crying about the effects of global warming on ocean animals after we built a fort and had too much whisky. Squeezing the hand of another on a rooftop right before we graduated college, afraid of letting go and growing up. Having the worst flu of my life and deciding the obvious antidote was to cuddle up on the couch together and spend the entire day watching the Godfather series for the first time.

The stage lights end and begin scenes intermittently. I soon recognize that I’m witnessing a shuffling of memories—various conversations during those hours that become the breeding grounds for future nostalgia. The girls, still enveloped in their armchairs, begin to turn from the audience towards each other and their discussion reveals that this is actually a play-within-a-play. The earlier conversations are perhaps entirely false. One girl tries to remember while the other gets upset for parts being erroneously represented. One is really here, the other is not. This relationship now grievously exists in one-sided memory.

“The worst part is that I’m not even me anymore. I’m just how you remember me.”

Light-hearted, funny, sentimental conversations fade into something that is universally experienced yet rarely portrayed: the loss of self that happens when old friendships dissolve.

The small-hours-kind-of-friends are like mirrors. We love the part of ourselves they reflect back to us. When one of those friendship ends it’s as if there’s a part of yourself you can’t see anymore. Whether the ending happens suddenly or more commonly, slowly and gently over time, any attempt at revisiting is prone to error and inaccuracy. I think one of the most jarring parts of growing up that no one tells you about is how often you will experience this:

Looking back on something you thought you knew and discovering the reality you believed was something else entirely.

We talk about making vows with partners, but don’t we also make them with our friends? Not ones said out loud wearing pretty outfits in front of a smiling crowd. Silent ones in pyjamas that happen between “what’s up”s and “remember when”s. Vows that are spelled out in leftover pizza crusts and danced out on dorm room floors. Those vows made during the small hours propel us through so many big days. We assume best friends are forever kinds of things. We assume these friendships will fill us in the ways they always did. That this friend will know how to love us the way we need through all of life’s ups and downs. We assume that we’re honest with ourselves and with one another. We assume that we’ll always put forth effort in equal measure. But vows made between friends are just as subject to change as vows made between partners. It feels to me that most of us are taught to regard these changes with an air of nonchalance and progressive acceptance. This seems increasingly evident to me as I journey through a phase of life that is incredibly transitional for everyone my age.

It’s natural. Life happens. They’ll understand. People change. Things get busy. I’m sure we could just pick up where we left off. 

I get that. I’ve parted ways from friends both abruptly with mutual acknowledgement and in a slow, silent fade out. I’ve cried after hearing about a friend’s engagement because of the changes that I knew would inevitably follow. I’ve quietly seethed over a friend’s job placement knowing it would take them far away from me. I’ve stayed up all night anxious about how things “felt weird” when we hung out last. I’ve experienced the sink in your chest the instant you realize they don’t care as much as you do anymore.

This play made me realize that everything I just described is a reaction of fear. These “normal” transitions in a friendship doesn’t just mean the change or loss of this person who has a specific and important part to play in your story. It’s kind of like a change and loss of self. If you love who you are around someone, if you’re attached to what they bring out in you or how they know and understand you, and then that connection shifts in a big or small way…it’s startling. Hard. Uncomfortable. It’s shitty, okay? It’s just shitty. And I wish friends acknowledged the silent vows more often. I wish friends talked about the transitions when they happen.

I don’t have a tidy conclusion or a specific point to make. Mostly I just saw a play and it brought my feelings to life in one of those beautifully messy ‘ME TOO’ ways that art tends to do.

Here’s to the magic of the small hours.

I wouldn’t take any of them back, no matter the outcome. Maybe that’s the point.

Shout out to my C venues team mate Anna Jeary for her brilliant writing and Fourth Wall Theatre for showcasing Small Hours at the Edinbrugh Festival Fringe. 

Love,

Taylor

BOOM.

YOU GUYS!!

I am very excited to share this with you:  See Through Stories

You see, I’ve had several life ties to Alzheimer’s disease: personal (my grandma was diagnosed), professional (I worked as a CNA on an dementia unit), and academic (this was my research topic for my dissertation). In grad school I had this idea to start a story-telling project with people diagnosed early onset and well… I ACTUALLY MADE THE IDEA HAPPEN. Or got it started, anyway. And that’s the hardest part, right?

This has been slowly growing over the last few months and today I am officially launching the website for See Through Stories. There are only two features so far, but I’m hoping that all of you will help me spread the word so I can make connections to more people interested in taking part. I think if there can be anything beautiful about having dementia, it might be that it forces people to live fully present in the moment. I think we could all learn a little from that.

I don’t know if this will last one year or 50 years. I don’t know if this will stay a project or become and organization. I don’t know if this will just feature people where I live or if I’ll be fortunate enough to hear the stories of people with dementia all over the globe. I don’t know if I’ll work solo or if I’ll be lucky enough to form a dream team. There’s a lot I don’t know.

It’s new. It’s figuring itself out. I’m going to be patient and present with it. No matter what it becomes or doesn’t become, I’m proud of myself for at least seeing the idea through. And I expect that I’ll enjoy every bit of the work immensely because it has me all like: damn, people are beautiful.

 

Love,
Taylor

Extra special thanks to:

The Alzheimer’s Association in Des Moines for connecting me to the wonderful people I’ve interviewed so far // My family, for literally everything // Ryan, who helped get this off the ground from every technical standpoint and was my brainstorming partner// Sarah, Rachel, and Lewis for consistently insisting I must do this, from the very beginning // Andrew, for being my sounding board.

 

Skorts + Sno cones

I came across this picture today (thankfully social media didn’t exist when I was in middle school, so pretty much none of that experience was documented like it is for people now) and I just want to be this girl wearing a skort at Adventureland again.

You know…when feeling grown up meant getting to wear mascara and shaving my legs. When being independent was about getting rides from friends instead of my parents. When socializing involved rollerblading to get sno cones and jumping on a trampoline, because no one had cell phones that did anything except maybe let you play Tetris.

You know…before any of the hard parts happen. Before girls get mean, before parents divorce, before you get your heart broken, before stress is a normal part of life, before best friends leave, before guys become assholes, before the debt piles up, before loved ones get sick and die, before the rejections. This girl hadn’t been touched by any of that yet.

I’ve been trying to remember what it was really like to be this girl, but all I can think of is that she could eat a lot of raw cookie dough and Doritos without gaining any weight and was good at Zelda. It’s insane how many days we live and don’t remember. I spent 365 days being 13 years old but I can only vidvidly recall a few moments here and there. Does this mean that 13 years from now I’ll only be able to remember a few moments from what is my now? 

Woah.

Well, I think I’ll keep up these nostalogia vibes by listening to Fall Out Boy’s Take This to Your Grave album.

Love,

Taylor

 

 

50

My Faja, Thomas James Vander Well, turns 50 today.

Cheers to the man who wears many hats (literally and metaphorically). I am mind blowingly fortunate that he’s my father. I seriously think about that…a lot. Like every week at least, because I get a cute little post card from him at that frequency. I am always in awe of his creativity, love, wisdom, and how much fun he has with life. He has, and always will be, my favorite man.

Here’s a little throwback post:

https://love-taylor.com/2014/06/13/when-dad-meets-daughter/

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Love,

Taylor

7 Things Sunday

One. It was really fun to have the ‘rents in the ‘burgh this past week. If you are lucky enough to know them personally, then you know that one thing they do very well is dinner. It is never a quick thing. It is an event. This is something I have especially missed about them: the way they engage in sitting around the table, filling stomachs and emptying wine glasses, laughing and sharing good conversation for hours late into the night. I was definitely thankful to partake in a lot of that while they were visiting. I enjoyed being able to show them some of my frequents in the city and to have new adventures with them, too! My dad introduced Monty Python and the Holy Grail to Madison and I at a very young age and it has been quoted in our household for years. Therefore, its no surprise that I particularly loved the day trip we took to Doune Castle just outside of Stirling where most of Monty Python and the Holy Grail was filmed. The audio tour was equally historic and hilarious. Plus, it completely made my day that they had coconut halves available so you could gallop around and re-enact scenes. Two. I had two other visitors I wasn’t expecting to see in these parts. It had been yearssss since I hung out with these gents. It was great to bro out, booze it up, and reminisce about loads of amazingly awkward adolescent memories. If you had told me that the guy I went to prom with when I was 14 would be drinking a 1968 scotch with me in Scotland ten years later…(and that he would still be wearing a Postal Service t-shirt… ;)) Yes, this is a cocktail served in a light bulb… Three. Speaking of adolescence– this made me crazy nostalgic: Four. It was 70 degrees for three days in a row this week!! EXCITEMENT. You don’t understand how big of a deal that is. I was working two of the three days so I didn’t get to enjoy it to the fullest, but just one day of being in the sunshine and my summertime nose freckles are out and ready to party. Must…get…vitamin…D… Five. The dissertation writing is coming along very slowly. I’ve honestly never been a procrastinator. Until now. I think its a cumulation of things, but I’m mostly just feeling burnt out. Meh. If you have writing a MA thesis before and have any tips or advice, please feel free to share the love. I had originally been planning on doing a feasibility study for an organisation called Arts in Healthcare, but this fell through and left me scrambling to think of something else. I had a classmate who mentioned a project that the Scottish Chamber Orchestra was doing with dementia patients, which I found interesting. A few days later I was walking through the library and saw a book on the new stock shelf that caught my attention because the cover looked cool (I always judge books by their covers) and it ended up being about architectural design and dementia. The next day I was walking to class and the Alzheimer Association van was parked outside with an information table. At this point I’m thinking, Ok, ok…I can take a hint. I ended up chatting to the representative and finding out that two theatres in Edinburgh had received grants to make their venues dementia-friendly and that Edinburgh as a city itself had this whole policy strategy to become dementia-friendly. It felt like something was starting to click– especially when I thought back to how I used to be a CNA in a dementia care facility, I’ve worked in hospitals, I’ve done art therapy with elderly people, and my grandmother had recently been diagnosed with Alzhiemer’s. During my internship at the gallery in the Royal Botanic Gardens, I was discussing all of this with the curators and they told me that the man in charge of outreach for the gardens was heading up a dementia-friendly programming collaboration between all the national collections in Edinburgh (The Royal Botanic Gardens, The National Library, The National Galleries, The National Museum), so I went next door to talk about this with him and he connected me with more people to talk to. Cha-ching.

All of this has accumulated into me researching how arts organisations can be dementia-friendly, which more or less has to do with training, programming, and accessibility/environmental structure. Its been interesting to inquire about who/what informs the understanding of ‘dementia-friendly’ and how that is then manifested. I’m still in the middle of it all, but I’m continually fascinated by what I’m learning and inspired by what cultural organisations are doing to raise awareness and ensure that their venues and staff are safe, welcoming, and both confident and thoughtful in their communication. It really is so much about being thoughtful and putting yourself in someone else’s shoes.

I attended the Dementia Awareness Conference in Glasgow a couple of weeks ago and the theme this year was ‘Global Progress, Local Impact’. It was amazing to hear from people in Japan, Germany, Norway, Ireland, and the UK about what is happening in response to this health issue. It was said that, “Dementia is the global health time bomb.” In the next 15 years the number of people living with the condition is expected to reach over 75 million and over 65% of those people will be living in developing countries. I loved hearing about what Join Dementia Research is doing to encourage people to participate in studies that create a discussion between the public and the researchers on an equal playing field. We need to understand what happens to the brain before someone is diagnosed, which means we need to be studying younger people right now and following them through the coming years. Secondary prevention is necessary for research and reducing risk of further decline or full blown development. We go for things like breast and cervical cancer screenings. We should do the same for brain health. And since such a large percentage of people affected are living in developing countries, we must focus efforts there on education, awareness, and diagnosis that doesn’t involve the use of MRI/PET scans which are likely unavailable.

I don’t know what my career trajectory will look like after I graduate. This could potentially be a big part of it, a tiny part of it, or no part of it. But I do know that I will continue to keep talking about it and doing what I can to support progress– we tackle stigma through social action. Six. Like many, many Americans, my sister loves country music and she’s very persistent in sending me songs. I admire her determination to convert me to fandom but you see, I do love country music. I just don’t love it in the sense that I want to listen to it. Ever. I love it because it is one of the most ridiculous things in existence. Just the other day, this showed up on my Spotify and I died. God bless ’em. Seven. I joined Twitter yesterday if you want to follow. I was really sad that @Tayrannosaurus @Taybaybay and @TweetsbyTay were already taken. I was just too late to the name game.  Love,

Taylor

PS: These are something to behold. Best thrift purchase I’ve made in a long time. #bibbabe #dungareehungry #overalldoll

7 Things Sunday

One. I really wanted to go to the Isle of Skye but it is best to go there with a car, which is something I don’t have. So, I posted in a Couch Surfer discussion group for Edinburgh to see if anyone else wanted to go that could possibly drive and Voila! We became a group of four headed for the magical island in a tiny but efficient Yaris. It was a fierce and incredible trip. The first night we got there I remember lying down to sleep and being startled by the stillness. Absolute silence. I could not hear a thing. I’ve been to remote places before but this was a whole other level of quiet. It’s strange how unsettling silence can be when you aren’t used to it. The next morning I woke up before everyone else (story of my life), made some coffee, went on a walk and talked to the sheep and lambs. I saw more of them than I did people…as if I needed more of a reason to fall in love with the place. We spent all of the days hiking: The Quiraing, Old Man Storr, a couple of places around Egol, and The Fairy Pools (we may have climbed to The Lord of the Rings soundtrack a few times because it felt that epic) and the evenings were for stretching our legs, drinking wine, and getting toasty by the fire. The landscapes there are unreal and breathtaking. The pictures don’t even do it justice. Overall, Skye was exhilarating and good for my soul. One side note: I needed to get some gloves before we left and ended up having to buy ones from the children’s section. Tiny hands. Baby chilly fingers.

Two. (Most of) Flat 3-4 celebrated Clare’s birthday last week! We made a delish fajita dinner together. Then we went out for karaoke. It was hilarious to see which songs everyone picked. Everything from Alien Ant Farm to Taiwanese band called SHE to R. Kelly was sang. I surprised myself by keeping up with Andre 3000 and totally dominating ‘Ms. Jackson’. I’m now trying to cope with the fact that I may be pursuing the wrong career entirely.

I feel very lucky that I ended up with these babes for flatmates this year. We’re from six different countries, speak three different languages, and all have very different personalities…which sounds like it could be a disaster but hey, not only have we survived- we’ve thrived. I will miss everyone’s endearing quirks, late night kitchen conversations, movie nights, scouring the ‘reduced to clear’ section of the grocery store, taking out the bin bags together, going on walks, and generally anything Arnie says or does. We’re having a flat ‘Last Supper’ on Monday before we all take off in different directions. Nooooo 😦

Three. I said goodbye to my campus room yesterday and moved into a new flat for the two months I have left in Edinburgh. It’s a cheery, sunny place and my bedroom has a view of the sea! I’m sharing it with two other girls who work full time. They’ve been absolutely lovely and welcoming. They helped me move in and had a sweet bouquet of roses in my room. D’awwww. But as I was unpacking everything last night I was internally moaning about the constant transition. Always going. Always changing. Never settled. Never knowing what comes next. Sometimes I love it or I at least wouldn’t know how to function without it…but I. am. so. tired. I don’t want to keep adjusting to a new thing when I’m just getting used to the previous new thing. And yet I can’t imagine how long I’d be content with staying in one place or doing one thing. Maybe it’s just the age/life stage. “My heart wants roots, my mind wants wings, and I cannot bear their bickering.” No truer words have ever been spoken. For real. Four. At the moment I tend to put more effort into my breakfasts than I do into writing my dissertation. Whoops. Five. When you’re at the station and have to pee sooo bad that you’re willing to pay for it and then… Six. My Dad and Wendy are coming to visit in TWO DAYS! I’m so excited I might cry. And my mom is coming to visit the first week of July! We will get to celebrate both of our birthdays while she’s here and we’re spending a few days in The Netherlands seeing our ancestral stomping grounds. She can geek out about genealogy and I can geek out about art museums. Holllllaaaa(nd).

Seven. This is the best thing I’ve tasted since I moved here: Love, Taylor

When Dad Meets Daughter

There is this cassette tape I have. If you listen to this cassette tape you will hear a recording of my birth.

If you’re wondering…yes, it does feel strange to listen to labor.

But I get over the strangeness quickly when I hear a voice say, “Hi Taylor. Hi little girl. I’m your Dad.”

I am listening to my dad speak his first words to me. We’re making introductions. My mind is blown as I imagine this; this moment before all the moments to come. In this moment the only thing my dad knows about me is that I’m 7 lbs, 8 oz. and 21 inches long. The only thing I know about him is the sound of his voice…a voice I will grow to recognize instantly; a voice that I will always love to hear.

In my tiniest form I am not yet aware that-

This is the voice that will sing ‘Once Upon a Dream’ while he spins me in his arms and then tosses me in the air before I land, giggling, on my mattress. Then he will pull out his guitar and sing ‘Forever Young’ by Bob Dylan a million times.

This is the voice that will whisper in my ear before the sun rises to wake me up for a special breakfast.

This is the voice that will make me feel safe.

This is the voice that will direct my sister and I in home-made short films such as ‘Misson Possible’ and ‘Maddyella’.

This is the voice that will read me epic adventure stories out loud, character voices included.

This is the voice that will make me cry when it’s raised.

This is the voice that will pray over me.

This is the voice that will tell me I’m lovely (even when I have missing teeth, thick glasses, and bangs that are far too short).

This is the voice that will ask me questions. Constantly.

This is the voice that will make me laugh until my sides ache.

This is the voice that will give wise advice when asked.

This is the voice that will cheer me on through successes and failures.

This is the voice that will appear in countless postcards, Bible margins and wax-sealed letters addressed to me.

This is the voice I will trust.

I will always love this voice.

Love,
Taylor

 

 

 

 

At The Moment

I am…

–Suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome. Being an adult + the arrival of Summer = severe symptoms.

You start growing up accustomed to this work hard/play hard cycle of school life and then all of the sudden you’re in a NO BREAK EVER life. What?! Who approved this?

Can’t I just not reply to work emails for three months and then come back in September and pick up where I left off?

Remember the glorious adrenaline of the last day of school? It signified the arrival of the freedom months. It meant full days spent at the pool with your best friend, ingesting an ungodly amount of freezer pops. It meant mischievously prank calling boys who still had little girl voices, sprinklers and water guns, turning three shades darker without even trying, multiple sleepovers a week, eating tubs of raw cookie dough with Doritos and frozen pizza (metabolism…what’s that?), sweaty hand holding, building rafts at the beach, wearing a swimsuit 3/4ths of the day, road trips to thrilling places like Adventureland, and living completely unconcerned about what time you had to wake up in the morning.

Now Summer means sitting at a desk all day praying to God the office AC doesn’t break. It means forcing yourself to be productive when all you want to do is float down a river inside of an inflatable donut or take a nap in a hammock. It means still setting your alarm, still getting dressed, still paying bills, still feeling worthless after a workday, etc.

I’m not saying Summers aren’t fun anymore. They’re still the best. But you never get back those few months of blissful, ignorant, youthful freedom. And that is a tragedy. RUUUFIIOOO.

–Grateful for friendships near and far. I think something unique happens when people become friends because the universe brought them together in another country, for a specific amount of time, to experience something intense and out of the ordinary together. I’m not exactly sure why, but for me at least, there is a pull to keep those people close. Maybe because they’re my only few ties to a life altering experience. Maybe because we lived in places and spaces where all we could do was talk. For hours, days, months. My friend Melissande and I have been in a season of communicating frequently. It’s been 5 years since we were aimlessly wandering the streets of Morocco, but we’ve continued to share life over Skype and through cards/packages. My friend Sarah, who I met in YWAM, asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding this Summer- yeaaahhh! I’ve stayed in touch with the three people I interned with in Uganda, visiting and checking in with each other. Each one of them has really been there for me lately, even if we’re oceans apart. It means a lot. And I’m constantly blessed and amazed by the friends I have surrounding me every day. I don’t know why or how I got so lucky. As cliche as it sounds, they make me a better person and I would be in a far darker place right now if it weren’t for their love and zeal for life. So thank you (you all know who you are). A million times. Thank you.

–All about the little victories.  When you find yourself challenged beyond what you thought you were capable of, the small victories become all the more precious. Stress and worry have tried to swallow me whole the past few months, but there is one victory I have been relishing in: the absence of self-doubt. I believe in myself. Don’t ask me why the realization of that comes as a bit of a surprise. But I’m proud of myself. I know that I am capable. Of reaching new levels of health. Of obtaining my dreams. Of saying no. Of great love. Of conquering fear. Of gracefully embracing change. Of deeper faith. I’ve got this. Breathe. Keep your eyes open, your chin up, and your heart full.

 

Love,

Taylor

Cheers to 2013

In 2013, I…

January

-Rang in the New Year with friends by gorging on chips, guacamole, and margaritas at Dos Rios and attempting to sing Auld Lang Syne very loudly

-Displayed my senior show at Grand View

February

-Clayton and I celebrated 6 years of being together by taking Cha-cha dancing lessons

-Emily and I dressed to the nines and attended the Des Moines Art Center’s Oscar Party, where we met a lot of interesting people

-My great-grandpa turned 90!

-I crashed the Filipino-American Association of Iowa’s Valentine’s Day celebration at Prairie Meadows

March

– My friend Sarah and I had a girls weekend and saw Sigur Ros in Minneapolis

-Clayton and I found out we were both accepted to graduate school in Scotland

April

-Clayton was the Easter Bunny for the third time at Gateway’s Eggs, Eggs, Everywhere Easter Egg Hunt. Always so much fun!

-I did a live painting at Gateway Church during the Easter Service

-I graduated from Grand View Summa Cum Laude. Booya.

May

-I started a summer of nannying for two very awesome kids. This included: berry picking, park hopping, swimming, crafts galore, science experiments, lemonade stands, tours of the art center/historical building/pella/science center/etc, movies, side walk chalking, milk boat racing, reading, etc.

-I volunteered putting on The Water Ride

-Went to a John Mark McMillan concert

 

June

– I experienced my first drag show

-Spent Father’s Day at an I-Cubs game

– I went to the farmer’s market a lot

-I visited my friend Andrew in Los Angeles where we went to art museums, a Dodger’s game, stand-up shows, and a Josh Groban concert. While in California, I also got to see the Kretzu family and eat burgers on the beach in front of an epic sunset.

-Clayton started his job as a Job Developer for Catholic Charities in the refugee department.

July

-I spent the 4th of July (turned 23) with my family in the Ozarks where we played games, ate too much, went boating, layed out, went down water slides, and hung out at a swim-up bar.

-Tried a go at Contra dancing

-Went to see The Lone Bellow and Brandi Carlile on the Riverfront

August

-I had the honor of being a groom’s girl for my friend Aaron. His wedding was one of the highlights of my summer, for sure.

-One weekend later Clayton and I both stood up in Colyn and Hilary’s wedding

– I saw T-SWIFT!!

 

September

– I was primarily unemployed this month so I did a lot of reading

– We moved into a new apartment

-We bought a used Prius and named it Miles

October

-Clayton and I celebrated 4 years of marriage

-We went to DC to visit graduate schools and stayed with our lovely friends, the Smiths. While in DC we went to a wine tasting, ate incredible ethnic foods, visited The Phillips Collection and walked to markets.

-Threw the 3rd annual 90’s Halloween party

-We briefly had a cat named Frieda. Tragically, Clayton is actually allergic. I can no longer live in denial. I miss her…even though we never really saw her because she was literally a-fraidy-cat.

November

-We spent Thanksgiving in Colorado with BOTH our families

-I went to my first NBA game

-Ugly Sweater Run

Decemeber

-Saw Peter Pan at the Des Moines Playhouse

-Had 7 family Christmases

-Spent lots of good quality time with friends back home for the holidays

Cheers, friends! I hope you all had lovely years. Here’s to 2014!

Love,

Taylor

Say It Now

Today I got a message from someone who reads this blog and she said very nice, beautiful, articulate things. I don’t know her extremely well and she didn’t have to say them. She could have just thought them and kept them to herself and that would be fine. But out of nowhere she shared these incredibly encouraging words with me and it made my day. THANK YOU. You inspired me to write about something that has been on my mind recently.

“If I died unexpectedly would you get a tattoo to commemorate our friendship?”

I asked this half-jokingly to a friend of mine who said that yes, they would, and they even knew exactly what it would be! And what they said was perfect and sweet.

Which means at some point they have pondered my early death and what they would maybe do or say in response to it. 

I find this fascinating. I mean, I do it too. We don’t want to think about people we know and love (or just like) leaving us too soon, but it happens. Within the last week two twenty-somethings passed away tragically and suddenly. I didn’t know either of them personally, but we shared mutual friends and my Facebook feed was covered with people posting their thoughts, memories, prayers, and goodbyes. 

I wondered if I died tomorrow what kind of texts, emails, voice mails, wall posts I would get and from who? What would people say? How many-

“I wish I would have told you…”

“I wish we had spent more time together…”

“I remember when you…”

“I always loved that you…”

“I didn’t know you very well, but I…”

“I’m sorry…”s

would there be? So many lovely words written to someone who can no longer read them. But they could have read them. 

Why don’t we say things we love about people when we see them? Who cares if it “seems” out of place or awkward. If the girl I sit next to in class were gone-just like that, I’d want her to know that I love how she’s passionate about using recycled material in her work, I think she’s really smart, and she’s a beautiful person. Why don’t I tell her that? Shouldn’t we write or say those things to people simply because they are alive to receive it? 

Yes, we should.

So, go tug on someone’s heart strings. Or a few people. Or everyone in your contacts list. 

Love, 

Taylor