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Never Go to Bed Angry

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Submitted By matiera
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Never Go To Bed Angry

It was an unusually sunny afternoon for October on the Oregon Coast. My family had congregated at my aunt's house for the day to celebrate my father's birthday. The wind blew blisteringly cold outside, but inside the walls of her small cabin there was warmth, music, drinks, laughter, and an inviting banquet of delicious homemade food from delicate cheeses, olives, crackers, and pasta salads, to meatballs, succulent shrimp, and steak rounds. But most of all, there was my family.

It always made my heart glow to see my entire immediate family gather together for special occasions. I can still close my eyes, smell the food, and turn to see my mom and Uncle slaving away in the kitchen together over a hot oven and stove; all the burners blazing at once and at different temperatures depending on the dish. These two fabulous chefs worked well together and produced many amazing meals for us. My Aunt would sit in front of the fire in the overstuffed recliner with Mona – the family Boston Terrier – stroking her back and telling us stories about the “old days” as we all half listened to her alcohol induced drone. Mona loved my aunt due to her large, soft frame and willingness to sit for long periods of time in the same comfortable chair, just loving on her. The birthday boy was at the DVD player, always the DJ of every event, playing the most appropriate music for the occasion. My brother and his soon-to-be-wife and I were sitting at the kitchen table at my mom and Uncle's disposal as the sous chefs and table setters. Though small in number, and despite the typical issues that every family endures, our tight knit community seemed to bring us that much closer together. We all had our place and we were all happy.

Just as the sun started to set over the frigid Pacific Ocean, we finished eating birthday cake and opening presents. We were all stuffed to the brim, and it was time for me to leave. I lived halfway between my aunt's house and my brother's so I caught a ride with him that day. Understandably, he didn't want to be driving around late at night on the windy, unforgiving, narrow highway 34. Being an impatient man, he was already in the car outside waiting for me before I realized where he was. Not wanting to make him wait longer, I headed for the door. The music was still blaring as I reached for the door knob and I stopped for a moment to look back and see my mom standing in the kitchen over the sink, with her back turned to me, washing the dishes. I reminded myself that I didn't say goodbye to her and I felt a serious tug deep inside me to backtrack and give her a hug. I even thought to myself that I should at least shout “bye mom!” but instead, I foolishly promised myself that I would make sure that I said goodbye to her the next time I saw her, and I closed the door behind me without a word. I didn't know it at the time, but there wasn't going to be a next time. She died less than a month later.

Since the day I realized I didn't say goodbye to my mom the last time I saw her, I have changed a lot of things about myself, permanently. I also strive to share it with others. My immediate family is aware of what it means to cherish every moment with loved ones, but for others, it can be difficult to understand something like that if you haven't been through it or felt the sting. Yet, some things should never be felt or seen in order to understand. I have never walked away or hung up the phone on a loved one and not said “I love you” or at least “goodbye” and I never go to bed angry at the man I love. He knows I feel that way, and to tell you the truth, having this “rule” in my life has improved all my relationships. It's easy to think that those things won't happen to you, but I am someone who can attest to its verity. Take it from someone who has to live with a lifetime of guilt: always say goodbye to your loved ones, tell them you love them, and never go to bed angry.

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