By Luellen Hoffman —

While working in Miami Beach, I decided to take a break from the madness of my job, and planned to get up earlier than usual, to see the sunrise on Sunday morning.  I set my cell phone alarm on the night stand to ring just before dawn, so I could jump up and head over to the Atlantic Ocean.

It was pitch black when the alarm went off, and I quickly threw on some comfortable clothes and headed down through the glamorous hotel lobby.  Once there I quietly walked toward the back of the plaza and past the pool, where two young lovers were locked in a sloppy kiss oblivious to anyone or anything around them.

The air was warm and still, and there was no sound except the faint roar of the distant ocean.  As I arrived on the beach I saw to my left two guys and a gal all huddled together like best friends sharing a special moment in time.  They were busy talking to each other in whispering excitement, locked arm-in-arm, as if they were having a slumber party and waiting for the feature presentation.

A single cruise ship dotted the darkness with tiny white lights, guided by a few mix matching stars twinkling above, other than that there was nothing but complete darkness.

A few minutes later a young man appeared to my right, walking barefoot across the sand in a disheveled tux.  He seemed too distraught or exhausted to care about anything around him.  He stared straight ahead, walking in a straight line as if he were looking for directions.  Then for no apparent reason, he collapsed on the sand just a foot away from the moving surf. He seemed, even through the darkness, to be deeply tired and lonely.

I perched myself up on an old fashion wooden Life Guard station that I had climbed in hope of getting a better view of the ocean, and probably to feel safer.  Then I started to pray and soon the light began to change and the darkness began to lift, as if in layers.

As the light grew, everything around us began to change, and what was seen before in the darkness seemed to melt away.  Then a red sliver of fire started to crown on the horizon, inching up slowly to form a half ball of fire.  A fire bursting with energy and so much power and color it is hard to describe.

Then I thought to myself, “This Day”. So many things will happen on this day.  Someone will be born and someone will die.  Someone will marry and someone will divorce.  Someone will hear good news and be happy, and someone will hear bad news and cry.  This day, someone will celebrate with good luck and someone will suffer with bad.  During this day, so many things will happen that will mark this day for many people around the world. For some, this day will never be forgotten while for others it will hardly be noticed.

No matter what we have or don’t have, all we really know is this day, this moment in time.  Now is where we are and now is where we can see things, say things and do the things that we want to do for ourselves and for the people in our life.

The greatest gift we can give anyone is time. Life is short.  We are all here for only a short time, and we can share, love and appreciate what this day is and what it means to us and to the people in our life.  This day is given to us as a gift.  Remember this day is it; once it’s gone, it is gone forever.

Luellen Hoffman is an adjunct professor at George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia and has a successful career in the Washington, DC area. She has won top awards and recognitions from, VNU/Nielsen Business Media for her outstanding people and communication skills. She can be reached at luellen1@cox.net.

Tags: grief, hope