I'm okay with it!

It's a Christmas conversation, but not your typical one.

"I'm okay with it!"

I'm not counting, but I think it's about the third time my friend has said it. He'll say it again before we finish up our lunch. He swings his fork into his tuna salad, as I nibble away at my Greek salad. I guess we think this is a preemptive strike against all that holiday food we'll be eating in the near future. The man sitting opposite me is one of my best friends in Washington. We've known each other since the moment he arrived here some seven years ago.

He says it again.

"I'm okay with it. My dad lived a great life."

My buddy is preparing for his father's death. He'll leave soon for Michigan to spend one last Christmas with dad. He's hoping his dad will make it through the holidays. His father's booming voice has changed, it's more like a whisper.

"He sounds like an old woman on the phone now when I talk to him."

I didn't know his father well. I had spent time with him on a couple of occasions. But it was just the usual getting to know your friend's father chatter. Meaningless really, nothing real in depth. His father was always a portrait of strength, always fit. Now he is withering away. He's hoping to make it to the finish line. The finish line is a manufactured one. It's not his finish line, it's his families. They would love to spend one last Christmas with dad.

Bringing the whole family together for the holidays is problematic. It hasn't happened in about 20 years. This year they will all come together. His brothers and sisters scattered, and busy, will figure out a way to get together, to be there to spend one last Christmas with dad.

It got me thinking about the question that Jackson Browne asked in his song, "Of Missing Persons." He posed the question, "Does it take a death to learn what a life is worth?" Better yet does it take a death to learn what life is all about? We will spend the holidays running from mall to mall to get that perfect gift. And yet my friend knows what the perfect gift is. It's time with someone you love.

Someone sitting in a booth next to us eavesdropping would think that our conversation has centered on death. But it hasn't. Because even though this seems like a conversation about death, it's really a conversation about life. And in life there are no guarantees. It's not just a man in his eighties who is clinging to life, it can be an NFL star player in great health like Sean Taylor. We simply don't know when our time is up.

So maybe that airline ticket is too expensive, but you really should buy it. I wish I could make the trip to California to see my family this Christmas. But I'm the 12th man on the seniority list, so I will be here with my immediate family, and my television family. So I'll use this blog to send a message to all my relatives in California, (I know you read this) you should know that I love you. I will be thinking of you this Christmas.