Do it. Do it NOW!

Remember my "are you ready to die" checklist? I left out something really important:

For many years, I used to travel quite a bit for work. Because of my overthinking/worst-case-scenario tendencies, I would always write a letter to my son (and later, to Doug as well) to stick in the visor of my car at the airport. My reasoning? If anything happened to me, they'd have that one last communication from me, in which I told them all the things I wanted them to remember - and most especially, how much I loved them.

Before Doug's surgery, I toyed with the idea of asking him to write such a letter. Ultimately, I didn't, because he clearly didn't want to contemplate the possibility of not coming home, and I didn't want to add more stress to an already stressful situation. And truthfully, I didn't want to contemplate it either: thinking about it might have made it real (I've already pointed out the mental gymnastics we all go through in order to avoid seeing death as something that can strike at any moment).

I should have asked him to write the damn letter

We weren't the type to write each other love letters. We said all those schmoopy things aloud; we sent sweet, loving texts nearly every day; we gave each other cards on special days. But we didn't really do love letters.

A few days after Doug died, when I had to start going through his computer and his desk looking for important documents, I searched. I hoped against hope that maybe he'd thought to write me a letter; after all, he knew that there was a letter for him in my car every time I traveled, so maybe it would occur to him to do that for me.

He did not.

I often find myself wondering what he would have written in such a letter. He was my husband, and I knew him well, so I have a pretty good idea: he would've said that he loved me. He would've said that he was so grateful for the time we had together. He would've said that I was worth waiting all those years to find. He would've said that he wants me to find a way to have a happy life without him (clearly, he underestimated his importance in my life if he thought I could be happy for a MOMENT in a world without him in it).

I know he would have said those things, because he said most of them to me on more than one occasion during our four years together. I also know that having a letter from him "just in case" would have been such an incredible comfort. And I know that, wherever he is now, if he's thinking of me at all, he's probably wishing he'd given me that.

But this isn't a golf game, people, and there are no mulligans. If you watch the news AT ALL, that should be abundantly clear.

So, while you're baking, or painting, or crafting, or binge-watching your way through social isolation, do yourself and your loved ones a favor: write each of them a letter telling them what you'd want them to know if you die tonight. And then put those letters in a place they can easily be found. And update them once a year, or if you become ill, as needed.

I cannot say that I'd be okay if I had a last letter from Doug. I know I'd still be devastated. I know I'd still be wishing to be with him instead of here. But maybe I'd have at least a little glimmer of comfort if I KNEW that he went into this surgery without blaming me for it; maybe I'd have a little comfort if I KNEW that he left this world - and me - full of love and gratitude for what we had rather than anger that I pushed him to have the surgery earlier than he wanted to.

One last letter wouldn't have made ANY of this okay, but it definitely would have helped. It might have made up for the fact that I'll never get an anniversary card from him, or a birthday card "to my wife."

I don't know how long it'll take to get the scholarship in Doug's name fully funded. In these times, with everything that's going on, I can't even really bring myself to ask for donations, so that's a long-term project. But THIS? Writing letters to our loved ones just in case? THAT'S something that every single one of us can do, today, to help him live on AND do something for our own loved ones.

So let's do that. Write your letters, and then post on Twitter or Facebook with the hashtag #WriteEmForDoug and tag me on Facebook or Twitter to let me know you've done it.

Do it now. None of us is promised tomorrow.