I unfolded the note, my hands trembling slightly. Jake’s handwriting was unmistakable – sharp, hurried, like he was racing against time. The words on the page hit me like a ton of bricks.
Jake was gone. Cancer had taken him, and I never got to say goodbye.
We’d made a stupid bet years ago, wagering on who would live longer. I’d won, but the victory was hollow. Jake’s note explained why he’d invited me to a reunion, only to stand me up. He was afraid – afraid of my anger, my pity, or breaking down in front of me.
I read the note three times, feeling a weight settle in my chest. I glanced at the untouched beer in front of me, unsure whether to drink it or smash it. Jake’s words echoed in my head, reminding me of our wasted years, our stubbornness, and our failure to let go of the past.
I drove aimlessly, ending up at the park where we’d spent countless hours as kids. I sat on a swing, gripping the chains, and stared at the empty basketball court. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I thought about the time we could have had, the memories we could have made.
I pulled out my phone and called Laura, reading her the note through shaky breaths. Her silence was a testament to the weight of Jake’s words. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Come home.”
That night, as I tucked my daughter into bed, she asked me why I was sad. I explained, and she listened intently. When I finished, she reached out and squeezed my hand. “You still have me, Daddy.”
The next morning, I called Jake’s mother, and we shared our grief. She handed me a small shoebox containing memories of our past – a photo of us as kids, crumpled movie tickets, a lucky rock, and a battered notebook. At the bottom was another letter, shorter but no less poignant.
Live a good life, Paul. Make it count.
Losing Jake taught me a valuable lesson: time is fleeting, and grudges are worthless. The people who matter are worth fighting for, and forgiveness is essential. I kept the photo of us on my desk, a reminder of Jake’s voice, his laughter, and his dare to live life to the fullest.
Life is short, and time doesn’t wait. Fix what’s broken, tell your friends you love them, and let go of the things that don’t matter. And for the love of God, don’t bet on something as stupid as who gets more time.
