Today the man sitting next to me on my flight died.

When I boarded the plane I was a little anxious about staying socially distant, this being my first flight since COVID-19 hit the world. And my thoughts were full of how to keep my three children traveling with me as safe as possible. I didn’t expect to be giving them hugs a short time later as they diffused in floods of tears, releasing their trauma and heart ache having just witnessed our fellow traveller be pronounced dead while still in the air.

The ER doctor who had been trying to save him for 20 or so minutes, along with several other doctors and nurses (all heroes who had raced fast to his assistance) were completely deflated after so much dedicated effort. The cabin was filled with an eerie and heavy sadness.

I had heard his last words. And I had noticed his shiny wedding band, but today he had been traveling alone. His limp foot was stretched out very close to me as they laid him down to work to save him. His socks clearly too tight, squeezed into soft loafer shoes. Amongst the panic and noise and great commotion, my mind took me away into imaging this gentleman putting his socks on this morning, and I wondered what he thought his day was going to be like.

Of course none of us ever put on our socks expecting to die, and that thought hit me hard. And it stuck. It made me quietly, but with great determination, commit to always making more of that moment each day. Each sock moment. When I usually do have a small moment of time of nothing else except that sock. I’m going to work hard to make my sock moments really count from this day on. In my sock moments I will make sure I think of those I love, and I will be inspired to tell them how much I love them. I will tell them more often how they fill my days with joy and purpose.

I’ve just sent them this note. 

And now Im also sharing it with you. I hope this encourages you to make more of your sock moments too. #sockmoment

(This is a true story of my day on June 19, 2020)