The Wisdom I Wish Others Knew: Don’t Wish Your Life Away

It goes by faster than you think

As a child, I spent most of my time with my grandparents. My parents divorced when I was 6 and we moved back to my mom’s hometown. There were three of us girls to raise and she needed help.

My mom, of course, spent most of her day working, which left us in the care of my Grandmother(yes, that’s what she wanted to be called) and my Poppy. I loved every minute of it.

If you found Poppy anywhere, I was usually hot on his heels. I was a shadow, following him wherever he went. If he was working, I was helping.

Together, we built my first swingset. As the story goes, I unscrewed every bolt just as fast as he put them on, to proudly proclaim, with all the enthusiasm a tiny human can muster, “My helpin’ my Poppy!”

He should have been frustrated with my less than helpful endeavors, but he wasn’t. I know he wasn’t because he told that story a thousand times. The look on his face was always the same. The love, the pride, the joy he felt was plain to see. The spark in his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners, the hint of a smile that came when he remembered that moment told the story of a proud papa.

Poppy introduced me to the joys of many things over the course of my young life. He had no way of knowing that allowing me to try espresso in Italy, at the tender age of 13, would inspire a lifelong obsession with fine coffee. He taught me the joy of reading and shared his love of music. He also shared his cigarettes with me when I was a teenager. Terrible, I know, but it was 1990. We were rebels.

To this day, when I catch the faintest whiff of coffee and cigarette smoke, I’m transported to the cab of my Poppy’s truck. I learned so much of what I know about life sitting on the red, velour-covered seat of that old pick-up truck.

In that small space, I could tell Poppy anything. We drank coffee and smoked cigarettes. We talked about everything and nothing at all. It was insulated from the world around us, from the ears of my sisters and mother.

I could make wishes and tell him my dreams. My wishes almost always involved growing up. When you’re young, you can’t wait to grow up. “I can’t wait til I’m a teenager!” “I can’t wait til I can drive!” “I can’t wait til I go to college!”

My grandpa’s response to all the “I can’t waits…” never wavered. In his quiet voice, made rough by years of the aforementioned cigarettes, he would softly say, “Don’t wish your life away, Dollbaby. It goes by faster than you think.”

Pop probably said those same words to me hundreds of times in my life. I didn’t get it. They were nothing words to my young ears. Throwaways…just something an old person would say.

I get it now, though. I caught myself saying those words just the other day in response to a barely twenty-something girl at work. The second the words left my lips, I knew she couldn’t understand. She was too young. The wisdom of those words fell on deaf ears.

You see, I’ve learned time is valuable. Time is fleeting. We can’t grasp that concept when we’re young. Time stretches out before us in all it’s infinite glory. Youth believes time is abundant, but age knows better. Time is finite. Time is short. Time passes us by in the blink of an eye.

As we grow older, the wishes change. We long for more time. Time to learn, time to travel, time to grow. We yearn for the time to do all those things we wish we had done. One minute we’re 18 and unstoppable, the next we’re 45 and left wondering “where the hell did it all go?”

I understand now what my Poppy meant all those years ago. He was trying to slow me down. He wanted me to take the time to fully live in each moment. Time is a precious commodity. Wishing it away is frivolous spending.

My pop was trying to share the wisdom of his experience. He knew the value of time. He had reached a place in his life where his clock was ticking faster by the second. The sands in his hourglass were fewer and trickling ever faster, day by day.

“It goes by faster than you think.”

My God, how true that is. Poppy’s time ran out when I was 20. He passed away two weeks after walking me down the aisle at my wedding. I was with him as the final second of his last hour ticked by. The clock stopped on a life lived well.

Twenty-five years have come and gone since my pop left this world. Some days, I don’t even know how that’s possible. Just yesterday, I was sitting with my grandpa, sharing stories and dreams. What I wouldn’t give now for a little more time together in that old pick-up truck. I’d love one more cigarette and a cup of coffee with my pop. Oh, how I long for another chance to hear him say “Don’t wish it away, Dollbaby.”

I need just one more second to tell him, “I won’t, Pop. It took some time, but I finally understand.”