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On my way home from coaching basketball yesterday, I was listening to WGN, my favorite talk radio station out of Chicago. I could tell right away that there was something wrong by thesomber（忧郁的）mood of the speaker. There had been a plane crash. Two small planes collided into each other over a northern suburb of Chicago. What made the story hit close to home was that Bob Collins, the morning show man for WGN, was the pilot of one of the planes and had been killed. I'm sure that many readers have tuned in "Uncle Bobby" on their car radios in the Midwest. Later that night, as I made my forty minute drive to my third shift job, I listened as the station reminisced and paid tribute to a man who was loved by many. They told story after story, describing him as the ultimate friend and a man who had lived life to the fullest. Genuine love and affection poured in from all over the country. The more I listened to how this man had influenced those around him, the more discouraged I became. Why you ask? I was discouraged because I wanted to know why we as a culture wait until somebody has passed away before we tell them how much we love them. Why do we wait until someone's ears can't hear before we let them know how much they mean to us? Why do we wait until it is too late before we recall the good qualities of a person? Why do we build someone up after they have gone into eternity? What good does it do then? We share memory after memory, as we laugh, cry, and think back about what was positive in a person's life. Yes, it does help us cope with the grief of losing someone who was special to us, and, yes, it does bring those who are coping closer together. Unfortunately, as we lovingly remember this person, our words fall short of the ears that most needed to hear them. | 
