#58. Tell Them You Love Them.
Goodbye, honey.
<Silence>
GOODBYE, HONEY!
Bye hun.
My wife and daughter had just left the apartment, en route to drop-off at my daughter’s school. Which happens to be about a quarter mile from where the bomb went off on Saturday night.
I usually don’t pay much mind to the threat of terrorist attacks on American soil. And if something should happen, which it did on Saturday night, I try to compartmentalize it in the drawer in my mind labeled, “Insignificant,” to practice what I consider to be resiliency.
The fact of this matter, or any matter that pertains to threats or attacks is, terrorists want fear to happen. Aside from mass destruction and carnage. And without sounding too much like a referee, when people get afraid — succumb to the fear — they have been terrorized and the terrorists have won.
And that is why I am vocal about poo-pooing incidents like what happened on Saturday night. My way of fighting the terrorists.
But shortly after the front door closed this morning, and my wife and daughter were on their way to a place far away from me and close to a terrorist crime scene, I flipped out. To myself. I couldn’t believe I didn’t take the time to see the two people I love most in this world off. I hadn’t hugged them or kissed them. And I hadn’t told them I loved them.
The reality is that you never know. And I never know. And it could be anything, let alone terrorism.
So I’m determined to not let that happen again.
And also embrace the threats or tragedies. Because there will be more in my lifetime. It’s an inevitability. But I won’t freak out, I just won’t ignore.
