I've grown so tired of this saying over the past couple years. My mom has had a side business of creating hand painted signs like the ones you find in craft stores, for the past 7 years. Therefore, I've been to my fair share of 'primitive shops' and craft stores where this saying has been painted on anything that can make a room more decorative. I've seen this saying so many times that my eye automatically twitches when I see those 4 words, and my mind immediately wants to scream, "THINK OF SOMETHING ORIGINAL". I've seen this phrase for years, and I never realized how much I agree with it, until now.
I've always been the type of person to never leave a situation on bad terms. Even if I'm so angry that I don't feel like looking at the other person, I can't leave them like that. I have my fair share of angry moments, but I always try to keep things calm for the departure. I've always been afraid that one day something will happen to that person when I would least expect it, and my last words to them would be something awful. I couldn't live with myself if that happened. And then it did. Almost.
I've always been proud of some of the photographs I've taken throughout the years. My brother is an artist and my mom is a painter herself, but I had my photography. One day I showed my mother a photo I was immensely proud of. She came in, looked at the computer, and made a face. "You could have got a better angle than that", she said. I just stared at her. My mother is a very emotional lady when it comes to her own things, but when others ask for her opinion, she gives the hard truth. That's just how she is. She's quick to judge without thinking things through. I wont lie, I know she doesn't find my photo's to be all too interesting, but each time I show her a photo I hope she'll lie and tell me how good it is. She never does.
At that point, I was sick of it. I've never been one to shout insults at my parents, or slam my door. I think the worst I've ever done was stomp to my room. But that day I went on a rant about how much she never supports anything I do or enjoy. I was being your typical teenager. She was shocked, to say the least, that I got so upset over a "friendly suggestion". I didn't speak to her the rest of the afternoon, until I was about to leave for work. I purposely avoided all eye contact and said one cold-hearted word, "bye."
It was a normal night at work. Slow, as usual. My coworker, Seth, and I sat around and shot insults and rubber bands at each other. I'm not supposed to, but I had my phone in my pocket that night. My dad called me while I was working, but I didn't think much of it. It was half an hour until we closed so I figured I'd call him back later. Ten minutes went by and we had no customers, so I figured I'd check the voicemail he left me. It was short. It just said, "Hey, give me a call back, I need to talk to you. bye."
Again, I didn't think too much of it. Sure it was strange, but my dad has always been awkward when leaving voicemail messages. Half an hour came and went, and we closed down the shop. I remember that night was rainy, and I took the interstate home. I called my dad as soon as I got in my car. No answer. Called 5 minutes later. Still no answer. I kept calling throughout my 20 minute drive home, but no answer. I assumed his phone had died.
When I got home, our inside dog was out in the pouring rain, soaked from head to toe. I took her inside and I was ready to ask my mom how she forgot about the dog with the weather like it was. I quickly realized I wouldn't be asking that question, because no one was home. I knew I couldn't reach my dad, so I called my mom's phone. A loud vibration carried from the kitchen counter. She'd left her phone at home. Figured. So, I called my brother. No answer. At this point I started to worry. From the time I got off work, until then, I had called my dad 15 times, and my brother 3 times. Finally, on the 4th try, my brother picked up. "Hey, do you know where mom and dad are?" "Yeah, we're at the hospital. Mom's sick, or something. They don't know whats wrong."
20 minutes later, I was walking into the waiting room of the hospital just down the road from my work, where my mom had been for the last two hours. Not much happened that night, but the next couple weeks were a roller coaster of emotions. Not knowing what it was, was the worst. My mom couldn't move for 3 days. Months went by and a million tests later, the doctors concluded it was a stroke. A small one, but a stroke all the same.
That was literally the only day I can remember leaving a situation on bad terms. It just so happened that was the day my mom became severely sick. I'm not the type of person that believes in "live every day like its your last" because if that were the case, rash decisions would be made and people could be hurt in the process. Instead, I believe in loving others like it is their last day on Earth. Don't be afraid to say the words "I love you". In the words of my personal hero, Jon Foreman...
"Love is the movement. Keep moving, amigos."
