Why Wait

seventy people milled around some cold potluck dishes,
a few cold beers tucked into shirt pockets to talk about
how much he had meant to them,  how talented he was,
how much they missed him, how truly unique he was,
but did we ever tell him when he was standing here amongst
us, living and breathing garlic breath and spaghetti sauce?
probably not, because we were busy discussing politics
or jet noise over Indian Peaks, wood splinters and curing
time of blue polymer, but not the real stuff like how
incredibly grateful we are that he is in our lives, how lucky
we are that he is standing here dropping some bread crumbs
onto our carpet that we just vacuumed for company.
why wait to read the obituary about the multiple talents,
the many friends, the generosity of this woman, this man,
and hope they got the message up there somewhere, here
on earth, we are not necessarily wise enough to know how
much we are loved, and maybe not generous enough to
share how much we love someone else, who in another day
or week or month or year may not be here to actually
hear it with their own warm to the touch ears, the electrical
signals traveling lickety-split to the brain, the heart warms
and this deep sense of happiness from being told how
special they are today, garlic breath and all.