I’m not sure why human beings are the way we are, but one thing I know for sure — far too often we wait too late to say things that need to be said to people that matter in our lives while they are able to hear them.

A couple months ago, Mr. Sherman Hall passed away. You may not know the name Sherman Hall, but if not I’d bet you probably aren’t from around here. Mr. Hall was one of the cornerstones of the original Central High School here in Thomas County.

Mr. Hall was a coach, teacher, and administrator for many years here. He always carried himself with a dignified demeanor that would make any Southern gentleman very proud. Always kind with his words, quite strong when he needed to be but always very forgiving, and always ready with a firm handshake that made you wonder what he did to keep his hands so strong, Sherman Hall impacted many along his path.

Though I was never a student under Mr. Hall, through the years we conversed many times about varying subjects. He was always so complimentary of my work on the radio, my writings for the newspaper, and things he had heard about my teaching of young people. I was always uplifted by him.

People who know me know that I don’t get upset very often, if ever at all. Some of that persona is attributable to Mr. Hall. In all the years I knew him, I never really knew him to get upset, which meant he was a steadying force in many storms in this community. In fact, when I think of the word “steady” Sherman Hall was a living embodiment of it.

Life is life, and I as well as anyone understand that things are busy and just don’t slow down. But I should’ve carved out an opportunity to tell Mr. Hall just how much of an impact he had on me while he was here. I can make 1,000 excuses, but for whatever reasons, I didn’t.

Unfortunately I will regret that fact the rest of my living days.

Why do we wait until it’s too late to tell people in our lives how much they mean to us? What kind of world would this be if everyone knew how much they had influenced us, as well other people around us? We’re all about complimenting someone up and down at their funeral — but shouldn’t we be big enough to share those feelings while those people are here to receive the blessings of hearing them?

Like the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life,” where George Bailey really has no idea how much his wife has impacted others until his life no longer exists. Once he gets to see how the world would be without him in it, he realizes a very powerful lesson: every single person matters more than they may ever know, and the impact each of us has spreads into corners of lives we may never suspect.

How many times in this life do we know deep down in our heart and soul that we “need” to say something to someone, to clear the air, to heal their (or our) heart — or just to let them know how much they mean to us? And how many times do we subsequently choose to ignore that little voice that urges us to act while the opportunity is in front of us?

My grandfather was one of my heroes. He was a great man in my eyes, there as a rock, a foundation, a steadying force for me in times when I could’ve very easily faced chaos. As a younger man it just seemed like he’d be here forever.

But I knew he wouldn’t be, and as the years advanced he started failing as all mortals eventually do. I heard that little voice speaking to me, telling me to say what I needed to say while the chance was still there. So I sat down and wrote him a long letter, spelling out as best I could all of the things he had meant to me in my life. Of course, the words didn’t totally capture the magnitude of his impact on me, but since I’m not sure those words even exist, it was the best I could do.

My uncle read the letter to my grandfather in his hospital room, and told me it meant more to him than I could ever imagine. Soon after, my grandfather passed away.

Reminding you of our mortality isn’t really my point, and I sure don’t want my point to be depressing — in fact, I want it to be quite the opposite. I am trying to say very simply this: say what you need to say while you have a chance to say it.

None of us are promised our next breath, and I can guarantee you there are important, meaningful people in your circle of existence who won’t be here as long as you think they will. I challenge you to step back a little, consider who those people may be, and find a way to let them know what they mean to you while the chance is there. 

In other words, those special words offered “in honor of” those deserving people will be far better than “in remembrance.”