Right Now

Ben checked his smartphone and then checked it again. Some junkies were hooked on heroin. Some on crack. Ben Johnson was hooked on his phone.  He checked it a third time before he walked out the door.  His wife Jen stared at him with her normal stare and pouted.  “C’mon. We’re going to be late,” she said with a huff.  She looked beautiful, standing there in her slender black dress (even if she was annoyed.)

Ben checked his phone a fourth time before opening the white van’s door.  When he tried to get himself situated, Jen grabbed the phone and put in her purse.  “You’re not getting us all killed by looking at your stupid phone while you’re driving.”  Ben couldn’t text and drive, his eyes were too bad to see the touch keyboard.  But he’d check his Facebook timeline and Twitter feeds.  He didn’t want to miss anything after all.

The little faces in the rearview mirror weren’t so little anymore.  Ben turned around before he backed out of the driveway and caught sight of his two sons. Ben Jr. and Jack were nine and seven. They had grown so much.  Where had the time gone? He put the van in reverse and carefully began to back out into the cul-de-sac. His phone dinged; it was another incoming message. And like Pavlov’s dog, his mouth started to water.

The van was silent as they drove to the small church on the outskirts of town.  Jen looked ahead, not talking to her husband of 11 years.  Ben, lost in his thoughts, didn’t say anything either. The kids, like their dad, were consumed with their electronic games and did not make a peep.  A family that was so close in proximity was a 1,000 miles away from each other in spirit.  A familiar song came on the 90’s channel.  It was Van Halen’s “Right Now.”

Don’t wanna wait til tomorrow,
Why put it off another day?
One more walk through problems,
Built up, and stand in our way ,ah

The irony was lost on Ben. He just wanted his phone.

The small white church sat on a hill, surrounded by tidy graveyard and a oak/pine forest.  The parking lot filled up with other people dressed in black.

They sat toward the front of the chapel and Ben reached for Jen’s purse. She slapped his hand. “Not now; you’re not getting your phone.” Ben felt like an addict denied a hit.  His blood pressure jumped and if looks could kill, the wall of the church would have been blasted out. “No Ben Johnson, you’re going to be present for this.”  Jen lectured her husband like she did so often these days.  The man she had married had retreated into some other world.

In the front of the room was a casket.  It was a deep red oak with polished steel handles.  Beautiful flowers surrounded it. And on top of it was a photograph of a face far too familiar.  A face that he had known most of his life.  It was the face of his best friend, Geoff.

Ben looked uncomfortably over at the left front pew. There was Geoff’s wife Angie and their boys Adam and Cory.  The boys were a year older than his boys, handsome and spitting images of there mother.  Their eyes were no longer the brilliant blue that he remembered. They were now red from too many tears.

The pastor gave an admirable sermon, highlighting the accomplishments of his friend.  He talked about the dreams Geoff had and how he loved his family. Ben watched Angie as she broke down several times.  Geoff had lived in the moment. But now, it was gone.

Right here and now
It means everything
It’s enlightened me, right now
What are you waitin for
Oh, yeah, right now

Ben’s back hurt as he and his friends carried their friend to his final resting place.  His phone chimed again in Jen’s purse, but this time he was too focused on the task at hand to hear it.  The warm fall sunshine lit their faces illuminating streaks of tears on their faces.  One drunk driver. One second here. One second Geoff’s life had been snuffed out.  Geoff had plans. Geoff had dreams. Now they were gone.  Stolen. Stolen by a man with a bottle in his front seat.  Ben’s eyes burned.  But his heart and mind were more awake than ever before. He was present. He was totally in the moment for the first time in years.

“We’re only here for a very short time,” he thought.  “And I’ve wasted so much of it.”

The pallbearers stopped, placed the casket on the rack and took their position.  The friends and family of Geoff Reynolds watched as he was slowly lowered into the cold earth for the last time.

Catch that magic moment, and do it right,
Right now

The Johnson family hugged Angie’s neck and visited with family and friends for a couple of hours after the service.  They laughed and remembered the good times.  They shed tears as they faced the incredible hole that had been ripped into the fabric of their lives.  Ben looked over at Jen. She thought, “He must want his phone again.”  He then looked at the boys, playing their games in the corner of the room.

The sun was starting to set as the family got into the van. Ben had never been any more emotionally exhausted.  Forty-years old was way too young to die.  As they drove into the sunset, his layers of invulnerability began to peel away.

“Give me phone,” he commanded to Jen.

“No,” she said.

“GIVE ME MY PHONE,” he said with a force that startled the kids.

“NO,” she yelled.

Before she could stop him, Ben snatched the phone out of her purse.

“DON’T!” she yelled. “YOU’LL GET US ALL KILLED!!!!”

But what he did next stunned them all. He rolled down the window and tossed his phone out onto the side of the road.

It’s right now
Oh,
Tell me, what are you waiting for
Turn this thing around