If you got a chance, take it, take it while you got a chance
If you got a dream, chase it, ’cause a dream won’t chase you back
If you’re gonna love somebody
Hold ’em as long and as strong and as close as you can
‘Til you can’t ¹

No less than a half dozen times since my last article I’ve scribbled notes on subject matter, opened my laptop to start writing, or thought to myself, “Stop procrastinating. You need to get another article done ASAP!” Yet here it is more than halfway through February, with nothing to show for it except a couple lame social media posts of little interest to anyone.

Among an abundance of other reasons for my literary absence, only a small part is honestly related to procrastination. Busyness with other business has been the real reason. But procrastination is precisely what has become the focus of this essay, because were it not for procrastination and excuse making, I would likely have seen my good friend once more before his untimely passing.

I’ve held it no secret that sitting still isn’t a strong suit of mine. That I persist, in my own words, at being “busier than a retired guy should be”. But a strong sense of purpose to share from the abundance of opportunity and experiences I’ve had and feeling likewise called to more than simply ride off into the sunset, the pages of Dave’s Little Lexicon of Rationalizations are well-filled.

That busyness I mentioned above is honestly more of a problem for me than procrastination. Always has been. Providing for a family and being a semi-responsible adult is hard! Add in the compound interest of some Type-A tendencies, a desire to please, limited ability to say “no”, and a drive to be the best, and the arithmetic checks out. And even though I’ve always worked hard to be present and find appropriate balance, there are plenty times I don’t get it right.

Unfortunately, things like my friend’s recent death and other missed opportunities become painful reminders of this. And reinforce what songwriters across time have consistently warned us about.

In October 2023, doctors discovered it was a brain tumor, rather than a mini stroke, that caused my friend Bill’s health scare. He quickly underwent brain surgery and radiation treatment. Ever light-hearted, he joked to me just before the procedure, “So like the old saying goes: It’s not brain surgery (until it is brain surgery)”.

He came through the same old Billy, joking and sending pictures of his beautiful wife saying things like, “Feel good. Low grade pain. But WHO is this chick in my hospital room?” He sent photo updates of the scar on his head, family, grandsons, and confessed he had become a serial napper. I was caught emotionally off guard by the pictures he sent wearing his radiation mask prepped for treatment, and video of the procedure: Frank Sinatra’s The Christmas Waltz hauntingly filled the room as he lay masked and motionless, video camera panning as the giant machine swung around him doing its work.

Billy was back to being Billy in no time. It seemed almost too good to be true, but I rejoiced at the answers to prayer and that he had such good reports. He seemed his old self in no time, even driving again by February. Locally only, he pointed out.

March 21, 2024 was the last time I would see Billy Buffett in person. My wife and I met him, his wife, and one of their grandsons for lunch at the Landshark at Margaritaville in Hollywood. As devout a Jimmy Buffett fan as I’d ever known, the nickname and meeting place fit.

Weekly, often daily communication was our norm. He was always the first to comment on my LinkedIn posts and articles, encouraging and addressing me by the nickname he gave me when we met over 25 years earlier: Wonder Boy.

Within six months of that lunch together, it all stopped. No more comments. No calls. No replies to text messages. In poetic irony, the last message he had replied to was the one notifying him of our daughter’s engagement. You’ll understand more if you read the linked article below.

I eventually contacted his wife, who informed me that the cancer had returned. He was being treated, but couldn’t communicate much at the time. He was eventually sent home to continue physical and occupational therapy, but we would never communicate personally again. I told his wife of our plans to visit while we were in Florida, either November or January, if he and the family were feeling up to it. November didn’t work, so we would definitely be down following my business trip to Tampa in January, I said.

While she reported some improvement along the way, his wife contacted me early January to tell me Bill had been moved to hospice care. I made plans to drive down and see them immediately following the business in Tampa, but I would come to regret and grieve my decision not to find a way to go directly to south Florida first.

On January 12, 2025 at 7:25 p.m. I received the following text: “Hello Dave, I wanted to let you know that Bill passed away early today.”

My heart aches for his family. It aches for his friends and other loved ones. It aches as a reminder to me how wrong I was to think there was still plenty of time. I procrastinated…and missed the opportunity to see my friend again. To look him in the eyes and tell him how much our friendship meant to me.

One of the most frustrating parts for me is that I am NOT a procrastinator. I hate letting things languish. Putting things off just means more to do later. So why now?

I’m grateful to have been within a few hours drive to attend his visitation, hug his family, pay respects. So I did get to see my old friend again, but not the way the way I should have.

Please take time to read what this wonderful man was all about in the article Friends Without Coffee posted March 3, 2019. It chronicles my daughter’s senior trip and a most memorable reunion with my good friend Bill. Unlike me, he had retirement figured out.

Above all, beware the problems with procrastination. Maybe there was something to that Cat’s in the Cradle song after all.

I miss you, Billy Buffett. ~ With love, Wonder Boy

Note: Out of respect for his family, I intentionally excluded their names and photos. I trust each of you knows how much we love you.

¹ _{From the Cody Johnson song ‘Til You Can’t, written by Benjamin Stennis & Matthew Rogers (Source: LyricFind) ‘Til You Can’t lyrics © Anthem Entertainment, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.}