Tomorrow

Tomorrow is everywhere in his at-home office.

I have entered the mausoleum of his work life to retrieve work he accomplished, but had yet to deliver. I feel no dread or sorrow here—just an eager determination to serve his clients well. A job well done and timely finished was the mandate by which he lived and passed along to me. Beyond the ethics of his working world, there is the truth his clients became his friends.

Hand-written field notes wait to the left of his computer, ready for typing tin the days ahead. His pen is where his right hand would have left it. His reading glasses are casually placed upon reports he planned to read tomorrow.

Overstuffed folders of work in progress are in their queue, lined up and waiting their appropriate time. Each one is full of work he’d done and things that were left to do. A towering sleeve of business cards stands guard, an upright stanchion of future contacts and potentials for tomorrow.

Watching over all is his calendar. It is the legacy of his past and the planning for his future. Through October the pages show us how he spent his days, breaking down the tasks by hours. The next two months were taking shape. Appointments were not just penciled in, but written down in ink in his planning for tomorrow.

His tomorrow never came.  Now there is only yesterday and forever.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12