A good friend of mine is coming up on a sad anniversary; the last time they saw their father. Some time after they visited, Dad caught COVID and passed soon afterwards.

They asked me how I deal, with my own mourning issues, but also with the realization of one’s mortality, especially with said mourning and my own recent medical issues.

I believe in a central concept, that I’ve figured keeps me from regrets, even if it does make me just a bit weird to my people.

It was during my Sunday call, the recap of church services and Mom detailing what she was making for dinner to make me homesick. Me on speakerphone so they both could hear. And before hanging up, And the last thing I said to my dad on this mortal coil was “Love you, dad.”

I believe in giving people their flowers while they’re still here. It’s simple, but think on it.

Chadwick Boseman died to the surprise of many, including myself. Later, we found out that he kept his cancer quiet, and, from all accounts, suffered quietly while, quite frankly, acting his ass off in acclaimed roles. That loss, that sense that a ton of people had, was that they didn’t give him his flowers. They didn’t tell him that he inspired them, or they really loved his roles, or that he looked good in that shirt.

People with empathy, with humanity, want to hear that they’re making a difference. That they re seen, and heard, and valued. And true humanity, in my view, is telling others that they are loved, or heard, or valued. Give and take, you know? Compliment and support, and work on you where you can do things that get you the same from people who recognize your humanity and fullness as a human being.

After Dad died, I developed a habit of calling my mother every day, and we always end the call with a “I love you.” Point being that I have no idea if she’ll wake up tomorrow, or that I won’t be shot in my home by an agent of the “law” in the next few hours. But I’d rest easier knowing that I told the people I care about that I loved them, or that I appreciated their work, or I think they’re great creatives, or great minds, or just great people.

Sure, that’s a weird sentiment to express to someone on 2pm on a Thursday, but I have a feeling that they will surely appreciate it at some point. You will come to mind, and they will smile. And in these days, being able to make someone smile from distance may be a superpower in and of itself.

So give your people their flowers while they can smell them. Because, as my folk say, tomorrow ain’t promised. And you “making it weird” now by getting a bit too effusive on how great your friend is, or how smart your colleague is, or how good this bowl of cereal is that your niece poured, is a gift that will endure.