Let loved ones know they matter

Editor’s note: This column was originally printed on April 21, 2021. A year later, it was reprinted following Jack’s death. It seems a good reminder to revisit year after year. We urge you to follow its advice.

Don’t wait.

Don’t wait until someone is gone before expressing how much they mean to you.

That’s the lesson driven home over the past month.

Melodi Haley was my classmate. She was my friend. And in the words of many of my contemporaries, she was the glue that held us all together.

Every high school graduating class is different. Some go their separate ways minutes after that tassel is moved from one side of the mortarboard to the other.

Others stay connected.

I’m lucky enough to say mine stayed connected.

And Melodi was the primary reason for that.

She’s the one who cajoled committees together for reunion after reunion. She’s the one who corralled us for monthly luncheons before COVID-19 set in. She’s the one who carried a magic wand that could turn the biggest slacker into the busiest volunteer. That last one I know for sure. I was the slacker, and Melodi put me to work on projects I never would have dreamed of taking on.

There was something about the word “no” that didn’t work when she asked you to help.

We lost Melodi this month. And by the word “we,” I mean the Portland High School Class of 1966, the farming community she served for years at Harvestland Coop in Geneva, the folks at Jay County Retirement Center, her co-workers at Adams Physical Therapy and her fellow members of the congregation at Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church.

And more.

I’ve lost track of how long Melodi had been dealing with cancer. She’d fight it. She’d beat it. Then it would turn 180 degrees and she’d be fighting it again.

But a funny thing happened.

When most of us might have felt sorry for ourselves, Melodi decided her mission was to offer advice and support and hope to others facing the same affliction. Ask around and you’ll find folks she reached out to, setting aside her own battle to provide encouragement to others in theirs.

The best thing I’ve done in 2021 and the best thing I’ve done in a long while was to let her know — while she was still alive — how much I admired her.

In other words, I didn’t wait.

A couple of months ago, when it was clear that her situation was dire, I sent her an email.

Words may not be sufficient. But sometimes they are all we have:

Melodi,

I’m not at all happy about the news I hear coming from 910 S. Vine St.

(Anonymous) has been in touch.

First, it was to let me know about his situation. Then it was to fill me in on yours.

Neither one qualified as good news.

Connie and I have been optimistic about both of you.

So this is discouraging.

But here’s something worth remembering: 

A lot of folks stumble through life without much of a clue. 

And then there are others, others whose lives make a difference, others who matter.

You matter. You have mattered.

It may have been with your smile. It may have been with your laughter. It may have been with your leadership.

But there is no doubt, you matter. You have mattered.

Not everyone can say that. Actually, few can say that.

But you matter. And you continue to matter to your friends, your family and your classmates.

So keep that in mind.

When the night seems long and dawn seems far away, remember this: You have mattered.

Love,

Jack and Connie

Insufficient? Probably.

But my advice is still this: Don’t wait.