5 More Minutes

Or...what would you tell the people you've lost?

Okay, confession time: I listen to country music. Not in an ironic way, in a I actually really like this music sort of way. I know some of it is deeply problematic. My dad and I would listen together driving just the two of us with the windows down until the cotton wood would make him sneeze one too many times and he would shut the windows and crank up the AC.

So I was driving home from school drop off on Monday (after 3 weeks of no school for our 4 year old) and Scotty McCreary’s 5 more Minutes came on the Y2Country station I was listening too. As I pulled my too big car into my too small parking spot I started thinking. What if I had 5 more minutes? What if my parents, either one or both, appeared for 5 minutes. What would I want to tell them? What would I ask?

I would tell my dad about our youngest and how much he looks like him. I would tell my mom that she was right - he is a radiant being. I would tell them both that our eldest stopped sleeping through the night the day my mom died and then I would listen to them laugh because I didn’t sleep through the night until I was 6. I would tell them about how hard parenting is without them. I would tell them about their amazing friends and how they have stepped into love my kids. I would tell them about the realities of being their executor and how it is really extremely hard but also a big honor to continue to be of service to them and their legacy. I would tell them that their dogs are fine and admit that maybe when I insisted that we get two it was not the greatest idea.

I would ask what they have been up to and what they miss most. I would ask if they can actually sense what we are doing and how we are doing? I would ask if they know that our kids say goodnight to them most nights. I would ask what comes next and if it is scary. I would ask what conversations they regret not having with us and why no one ever taught us to do house maintenance.

I would tell them that even though it was their dream co-housing life isn’t for us. I would tell that we spent Christmas and Hanukkah with family and it wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be. I would tell them that we are moving home and listen to them laugh because when I was 12 I was terrible (who isn’t?), hated Minnesota and everything about it and now I am choosing to live there. I would tell them how hard it is to not be able to just pick up the phone and call them when I want to. I would tell them to write down more stuff about our family and their families and tell more stories not just in sermons. I would tell them that every time I take the kids to the doctor I look into their oncologists office and alternate between feeling very grateful and giving them the finger secretly.

I would ask if there things they would have done differently in their treatments. I would ask my mom if she was really truly grateful for living those extra 18 months even though it meant the end was more painful. I would ask my mom if she remembers the female phlebotomists name who worked with Scott/Brian because she was just as good as he was. I would ask what they would do differently in their lives if they knew they would die earlier than they should have.

I would tell them everything about our kids and the ways they challenge us to be better and more regulated people. I would tell them about how hard it has been but how proud they would be of us. I would snuggle up close and just be held by then. I would let me dad kiss my forehead while holding the back of my head the way he did thousands of times. I would tell my mom all the gossip.

I would tell them I loved them over and over and over and over again. I would tell them I will love them forever. But then again, they knew that already.

Maybe I am going to need more than 5 minutes.