A note from Nancy: When I wrote the following post, we were living in a different time. We’d heard of the coronavirus, but we only knew it from a distance. Now, this deadly virus has taken hold in nearly every corner of the world.  

Because of the pandemic, our lifestyles have been altered significantly. What has not changed, however, is our basic human need to show love to one another—not just to those in our inner circle, but to every single person we meet. This may likely be our most important chance to make the world a better place.  

We human beings are meant for love and connection. Through our compassion and kindness, we now have the perfect opportunity to unite with our fellow inhabitants of the world. 

‘If you have love in your heart,
let it show while you can’

Gather the Good is thrilled to be back following a much needed respite of several months. The busyness of the holiday season may have interfered somewhat with my writing. But there was something else going on.

There was death. And death. And more death.

Several friends and family members around me were suddenly leaving this world. The deaths seemed to be occurring steadily, one right after the other. I found myself unable to focus. I had neither the energy nor the desire to put pen to paper. I knew no words would come.

For me, this most recent series of losses began in October when a cousin unexpectedly passed away. He was only 49 years old.

A few weeks later one of my brothers died. Although he’d not been in good health for quite some time, I don’t think any of us knew how serious his health problems were.

On the same day my brother died, another cousin received the news that his brain cancer had returned. He’d just completed a stem cell transplant, an excruciatingly painful treatment that assured the tumor would not return. Unbelievably, just weeks later, the cancer did come back. His family learned there was nothing more the doctors could offer.

Hospice was called in, and he passed away days later.

In addition to the family members we lost, we’ve also recently grieved the deaths of a former beloved pastor and a friend/neighbor.

Every one of these people—49 to 68 years old—would have reasonably expected to experience many more years of life here on earth.

The reality, I keep learning, is that I should probably release all my assumptions and expectations. Life brings no guarantees. There’s no promise of fairness, no pledge of any number of years, no vow to spare one of pain and suffering.

With the experience of these deaths I’ve been flooded with a torrent of emotions. Loss, sorrow, disbelief, regret, and helplessness are all churning alongside feelings of relief and even a smidge of regret.

Did each of these people know their life mattered? Did they know they were loved? More specifically, my mind continued to ask, “While they were here, did you let them know you cared—that you really loved them?”

Hoping to quiet my runaway thoughts and emotions, I began to carve out some moments of solitude. Instead of trying to fix myself, I tried to sit in meditation, allowing all those feelings to just flow.

And then one day along that path of stillness, as if by magic, the lyrics of a song about losing someone drifted into my thoughts. It’s another one of my favorites by The Avett Brothers.

“Hard to believe I won’t see you again…

“My dream of all dreams and my hope of all hopes
Is only to tell you and make sure you know
How much I love you and how much I always did…”

“And now my only chance
To talk to you is through my prayers
I only wanted to tell ya I care.”

“Down in my mind where I don’t care to go
The pain of a lesson is letting me know
If you have love in your heart let it show while you can.”

That song seemed to resonate perfectly with what I’d been sensing. But it was that line “If you have love in your heart, let it show while you can” that affected me most profoundly. Those words were the healing balm I so badly needed.

Now a shift is beginning to take hold. I have a newly revived spirit. I wholeheartedly believe we are all beings meant to love and uplift one another. And so once again I’m focusing on the directive to love others—to love them deeply. With renewed commitment to being present to those around me, I vow to slow down, looking and listening more heartfully.

I don’t know when I will lose the next friend or family member in this life—or if I will be the next to go. But I’m confident that raising the vibrations of love in my heart and sharing them freely is the best way to avoid any personal regrets when that time does come.

May we all commit to sharing more love.

More love.

No regrets.