Today marks ten years since the “day before.” The day before my life changed forever. I remember that evening with crystal clarity, as if it happened just yesterday. We were on the lanai, the soft Hawaiian breeze brushing against our skin, a perfect setting for a perfect night. We were together, enjoying family time. Laughing. Playing cards. Sharing stories. Downing a few cocktails. It was a perfect evening, filled with love and joy. I felt blessed.
Greg got tired early that night. He was always the life of the party, so his desire to turn in seemed a bit out of character. But I thought nothing of it at the time. People get tired. Plans change. Meanwhile, I decided to stay up with the kids, soaking in every moment of laughter and connection. It was unusual for me to stay up late. I was typically the one who turned in early, more concerned with getting eight hours of sleep than trying to keep up with the youngsters. But not that night. For some reason, I chose to stay. 
Looking back now, I wonder why I didn’t just go to bed with Greg. Why didn’t I fold my hand and call it a night? Why didn’t I choose to cherish one more evening snuggled up in his arms? It was the one night I should have been with him. Our last chance for a “goodnight” kiss. But, how could I have known? How could anyone know that a seemingly ordinary night would be our last together?
I wanted to cherish those moments with the kids. They were rare, and as they grew older, those moments became even more precious. Time with Greg felt abundant, a well that would never run dry. We had years ahead of us—or so I thought. I never imagined that “forever” could be cut short in a heartbeat.
And so, I stayed up that night, thinking there would always be more time. More days. More nights. More “goodnights.” It was one of those “woulda, coulda, shoulda” moments that haunts me still. I think of it often and wonder… if only I had known. If only I had understood how fleeting time can be, how fragile life truly is.
The “day before” feels like a distant memory. A fresh wound, all at once. Ten years have passed, and yet, the memories of that evening, of the laughter and the love, remain vivid. I hold onto them tightly, even as I wish I could rewrite the past. But life doesn’t grant us that luxury.
If I’ve learned anything from that day, it’s to cherish every moment. Hold the people I love a little closer, and never take a single second for granted. Because we never know when our “day before” will come, when our lives might change in ways we can’t imagine.
So tonight, I’ll whisper a “goodnight” to the sky, to the memory of Greg, to the moments we shared and the ones we lost. I’ll remind myself that while I can’t change the past. I can honor it by living fully in the present. With love. Gratitude. And the knowledge that every moment counts.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
