Monday, February 04, 2008

Of Wasted Time and Missed Opportunities

There is a reason why earthly time is divided into seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, years, and so on and so forth.  They were invented so that we human beings would take note of the shifts and transitions, and move along with them, rather than resist them.

We are given opportunities to take little vacations every day, but we ignore them.  We pack our day with activities and slump into bed exhausted at night.  Weekends were intended to be utilized for rest and relaxation.  The Sabbath Day was ordained by God to be set aside for communing with Him and resting our souls.

When we abuse our bodies, we suffer the consequences.  Instead of having idyllic days in some vacation hideaway as some enlightened people get after planning their lives properly, the rest of us are forced to rest by groaning bodies and pounding headaches.  We then stay at home but are unable to enjoy any minute of our "forced vacation" as we're nursing a sickness that is our body's protest letter to our stubborn refusal to rest.

Maybe we don't want to rest.  We want to be busy, important, and hard to reach.  But all that leads to empty days of sickness, when we regret all the precautions we ignored - a persistent cough, a sore throat, or a painful back.

I've been trying to sleep since this morning but these thoughts have been bothering me.  Unable to rest, I picked up a book to read, which two of my best friends recommended to me.  

The book's title is "Love, Rosie", written by Cecelia Ahern, daughter of Ireland's Prime Minister.  It is akin to Bridget Jones' Diary in theme but more like Griffin and Sabine in style.  It is an exchange of notes, cards, texts, e-mails, and letters over a span of 45 years between Rosie and her best friend Alex.  

Although the lead character is Rosie, the letters from Alex were the ones that blew me away.  I will type parts of the two letters that I loved the most below.  Reading this book was the perfect escape from reality that I needed.  

1.  Rosie,

(I deleted some portions so as not to spoil it entirely for those who intend to read the book.)

He is the luckiest man in the world to have you, Rosie, but he doesn't deserve you and you deserve far better.  You deserve someone who loves you with every single beat of his heart, someone who thinks about you constantly, someone who spends every minute of every day just wondering what you're doing, where you are, who you're with, and if you're OK.  You need someone who can help you reach your dreams and who can protect you from your fears.  You need someone who will treat you with respect, love every part of you, especially your flaws.  You should be with someone who can make you happy, really happy,  dancing on air happy.  Someone who should have taken that chance to be with you years ago instead of becoming scared and being too afraid to try.

I'm not scared anymore Rosie.  I am not afraid to try.

2.    (This letter was written about 10 years later.)

My dear Rosie,

(Spoilers deleted)

I'll get straight to the point because if I don't say what I have to say now, I fear it will never be said.  And I need to say it.

Today I love you more than ever; tomorrow I will love you even more.  I need you more than ever; I want you more than ever.  (x x x)

Rosie Dunne I love you with all my heart, I have always loved you even when I was seven years old and lied about falling asleep on Santa watch, when I was ten years old and didn't invite you to my birthday party, when I was eighteen and had to move away, even on my wedding days, on your wedding day, on christenings, birthdays, and when we fought.  I loved you through it all.  Make me the happiest man on this earth by being with me.

Please reply to me.

All my love, 

Only a woman could write a man's feelings that well.  

And now I will go back to getting better so I can go back to work tomorrow, a bit more careful not to waste time and to miss opportunities.  Or I'd end up like Rosie, who finally found happiness when she turned 50 years old.

That's 16 and a half years from now, for me.  

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