Carpe diem. Seize the day. The phrase is a shortened version of a sentence used by the poet Horace in a series of poems titled Odes, published in 23 BC. The complete sentence is “carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.” It is roughly translated as “pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next one.” The concept of seizing today does not come naturally to me. I am much too goal-oriented and tend to look way down the road.
Early in 1987, we sold our first home and moved into an apartment in McDonough while our house was being built in Dutchtown. Jennifer fell in the bathtub and bumped her head. She seemed OK, but the doctor thought it would be good to do an x-ray to make sure. When the radiologist reviewed it, they sent us to Scottish Rite Children’s Hospital. We met with a neurosurgeon who explained that she had a cyst, what most of us would call a brain tumor. After a series of tests, they quickly scheduled her for surgery.
We had been coasting along through life. I had a job at Delta, and in those days, it meant you were set for life. We were building our dream home back on my old stomping grounds. In a matter of a couple of days, none of that seemed important anymore. Jennifer was facing a life-threatening surgery. From then on, I have been keenly aware of how fragile our lives are.
Over the course of the following 35+ years, there were many reminders. The only question is, what do you do with that information? I could be inclined to wallow in self-pity, but Jennifer made it very difficult to do that. Despite her problems, she was a happy child. She was only mildly agitated when we told her we needed to return to the hospital. What she taught me was to seize the day.
Cheryl was in charge of the big picture, Jennifer’s long-term care, dealing with the doctors, etc. I was the court jester, getting her through another day and finding some way to do it with humor. With Jennifer, life was by the clock. It just had to be. At 5:30 every morning, I got out of bed, warmed Jennifer a cup of tea, took it into her room, and set it on her dresser. Then we had a ritual called “morning hug.” I would take the rail off her bed, lean over her and give her a huge hug. Until the last few days, she would hug me back. We would finish the day the same way as I tucked her in for the night. I don’t know what having those bookends on her day did for her, but I know what it did for me.
When she died, I grieved. I’m still grieving. But, I don’t have to grieve that I didn’t seize the days while she was alive. I’m not grieving that she is now with her heavenly father. As Jesus said when he was about to leave, “If you loved me, you would be glad I am going to the Father” (John 14:28). There is loss, but as long as I’m alive, there is a purpose for me and another day to be seized. Jennifer taught me that.
“When you recognize that you will thrive not in spite of your losses and sorrows, but because of them, that you would not have chosen the things that happened in your life, but you are grateful for them, that you will hold the empty bowls eternally in your hands, but you also have the capacity to fill them? The word for that is healing.”
– Cheryl Strayed