Dear Diary,
After twentyone years of marriage, one quiet evening my wife, Wren, turned to me with a mischievous smile and said, You should ask another lady out for dinner and a film. I was taken aback. She leaned closer, her voice soft, and added, I love you, but theres a woman who also loves you and has been waiting for a bit of your time. The woman she meant was my mother.
Mum, Margaret Thompson, had been living alone since Dad passed away nineteen years ago. Between the demands of my job and caring for our three children, I rarely saw her. That night I rang her and said, Mum, how about we go out for dinner and a movie tomorrow? Just the two of us.
Is everything alright, love? she asked, a hint of worry in her tone. Mum always assumed a sudden call meant bad news.
All good, Mum. I just want an evening together.
She fell silent for a heartbeat, then replied warmly, Id love that.
On Friday after work I drove to her house. She was waiting, dressed up in the same dress she wore on our wedding anniversary years ago, her eyes bright. I told the girls Id be on a date with my son, she laughed, and theyre all eager to hear how it went.
We slipped into a cosy little bistro on the high street of York. Mum took my arm gently, just as she used to when I was a boy. When the menu arrived, I read it aloud because the tiny print was hard for her to make out.
Once I read the menu to you, she smiled, now its my turn.
We talked long into the nightabout life, about memories, about everything that had piled up between us over the years. We missed the film, but we didnt mind. When I drove her home she said, Lets do this again, and next time Ill be the one to invite. I smiled and agreed.
A few days later Mum suffered a sudden heart attack and died before I could say goodbye. Weeks later a plain envelope arrived with a copy of the restaurant bill and a note in her familiar handwriting:
I paid in advance. I wasnt sure Id make it, but I wanted to settle a dinner for twofor you and your wife. Youll never know how much that night meant to me. Love you, son.
That moment taught me a simple truth: never put off saying I love you. Give time to those who matter, because family isnt something for later. Family is now.
James Thompson.
