What would you say?

Kris had it all — a wonderful husband, a marriage filled with laughter and joy, beautiful children, optimism and excitement for the future.

One day, her husband Richard boarded a plane. When the plane landed he was dead. A pulmonary embolism claimed his life. He was 45 years old.

In the wake of this tragedy, Kris dove into boxes of letters that she and her husband had exchanged. Decades of love letters. One letter stood out. It was a letter that Richard had written in honor of their 18th anniversary — a letter where he wrote about these questions:

“If you had one hour to live and could make just one phone call, who would you call? What would you say? Why are you waiting?”

These are the questions that cut down to the core of what really matters in life. Down to the marrow. Down to the bone.

Who do you need to call today? Who do you need to spend time with, touch, and hold? What is the letter you need to write? And what will you say?

Please say it now. Because today is a privilege. Because tomorrow is never guaranteed. Because love is the only thing that matters. Because everything else is just chatter and clutter and noise.

Today is my 4th anniversary with Brandon.

There’s a lot I want to say.

I will say it today.

This is dedicated to Kris, who has taught me so much about what it means to be fully awake and alive, and to my dear friend Ellen who lost her brother in a terrorist attack, and to Christina who lost her husband to cancer, and to my mom who lost her dad much too soon, and to everyone, everywhere, who has felt the pain of loss and the fragility of life.