To Study A Face

If there is one thing loss can teach you to do it is to savor. To slow and appreciate. To take in. Because after you've said goodbye often and memories are all you've got of people, suddenly everything about that person means so much more. You cling to whatever your mind can recall and you hope, pray that you won't forget. That time won't erase their voice, their face, their mannerisms from you. And you learn how to study a face. 

Weeks ago, while at her brother's memorial service, I stood and talked with Susanna. Brave girl she was. Cancer survivor, soon-to-be single mom. Always full of smiles for others, even as she held inside her own pain. She showed me the tattoo she'd gotten in honor of her older brother and their shared cancer journey together and I recall studying her face more than usual. Something just told me to take all of her in for once - I hadn't seen her since her cancer battle and she could've slipped away then but here she was now and I just looked at her as she spoke. Days ago, I received the news that she had been murdered. That moment at the service was the last time I would ever see her. But she's in my memory vault now...forever. 

This isn't the first time I've made myself pause and really look at somebody. As my grandparents aged and have passed away one at a time, I found myself just looking over and watching them. Would watch my grandma doing the jumbles in the newspaper or telling a story. Would try to freeze her smile or her laugh in my mind so I would remember. Would try to remember the playful banter or the times watching her favorites tv shows with her. Because now she's been gone almost ten years and those memories are all I've got of her or Granddad. I'm doing it now every time I'm with my other grandma. Just trying to notice little things and store them away for when I'll really want those memories most. 

I did it when I met my Alex for the very first time. That whole trip of three days I just studied everything about him. When he'd talk to somebody else or when he was hiking ahead of me on our final day together, I would just watch him. At that point, I did it mainly because I knew I was in the presence of a living miracle. He should not have been alive. Several close calls in the war should've taken the friend I loved and never made this visit possible, so I savored every second. I listened to his voice, watched that lovely smile, took in that laugh, felt the strong grip of his hand or the sense of safety in his hugs. I wanted to remember it all. But I expected I'd get to live all of those things again. Now, he's gone too and those small reminders - those precious memories - they're all I've got. But replaying all those moments somehow keeps him alive in my heart. And maybe that's why he talked so often about his fallen friends...re-living memories kept them fresh in his soul. 

They say you don't know what you have, don't know how to appreciate what you've been given, until you've lost it. And just perhaps we find ourselves wishing we'd paused more, asked more, taken in more. Loss makes you realize how much you took for granted and how much you missed. How many times you failed to take advantage of the time you had and now that chance is lost forever along with the one you loved. 

Part of the grieving process often involves regret and guilt. People feel badly that they didn't do certain things before it was too late or chose to prioritize other maybe less important things over time with those they did life with. I don't regret much because I know that I showed my love and gave all I had to the ones I have now bid goodbye to. But there are moments I wished I'd asked more questions or sought their wisdom. Had made more of an effort to be with them and take in everything about who they were. The end came - it comes for all of us - but for some of them, it came sooner than I expected or was prepared for. And sometimes I'd love a few of those moments back again. If I had any idea they'd be gone so soon, I would have done a few things differently. 

Regrets don't change the past. What has happened has happened but, the more times you listened to that prompting to pause your life and make that special person a priority in that moment, you lessen the chance of regret exponentially. The deaths I've been able to bear easier were the ones I knew I got that unique story on tape or had the defining conversation for which I'll always remember that dear individual. 

Learn to make the most of a day and the moments given, and you learn to treat every encounter as though it might be your last. 

Perhaps you're prepared for somebody you love to die and you know the end is coming. Perhaps the end is approaching sooner than you think for someone and you aren't even aware that a goodbye is looming. Whatever the case, don't hesitate the ask that something you've always wished you knew. Or to have that difficult conversation you know you should have before they're gone. Or to text or call or meet with that person just to tell them you love them or make a memory. 

While none of us welcome loss, it is a teacher than none of us can avoid. In the empty space our special ones once occupied, we discover the painful yet necessary truths about what what really matters most. About who matters most. 

To study a face is to study a life and to study a life is to change your own life. 

So next time you're with the ones you love, listen deeply to them. Watch them. Learn from them. Because someday you'll be wishing you'd done it more.