|70th Birthday Celebration in Bermuda.|
Last night, I was recording all of Connor's school and soccer commitments in my calendar book. Yes, my paper calendar book. No online schedule for me.
In the "September 18" square, I wrote the number “7” and circled it.
Seven is the number of years my mother has not been with us. Some days it feels like yesterday she left us, and other days it feels like she's been gone forever.
When people pass away, we typically focus on the loved ones left behind, but as my mom’s anniversary approaches I’ve been thinking about all that she has left behind and has missed.
She has missed Taylor’s high school and college graduations, his move to another state, and the start of his first real job. And, she never knew that Taylor fell in love with the theatre, became a talented playwright, and learned to play the guitar.
She has missed Connor’s graduations from lower and middle school, and she never knew about his obsession with soccer and what a diligent student he would become.
She never got to meet Charlie Brown and Bella. The reality is that there would probably not be a Charlie Brown and Bella if Nan were still around.
She never knew that I learned how to cook and that I love it. Although, she would disapprove of some of my “everything in one pot” meals and that I don’t make a roast beef every Sunday.
She doesn't know that I pay attention to the laundry like she did and I use her beloved Tide. And, that we converted her bedroom into a laundry room; there could not be a more fitting tribute to Nan.
She has missed out on reading my blog, which she would only have done if I printed it out and gave it to her. For those of you who know Nan, you know what she’d say about the blog? “Who has time for that nonsense?”
Those are just some of the things she’s missed out with my family. With my siblings and their families she has missed the weddings of her grand children, the birth of her first great-grandchild, holy communions, grade school, high school and college graduations, and many birthdays and holidays.
For a person who lived for her family and to celebrate their milestones, she has missed a lot.
Nan, I know you’re not happy to be missing everything, but please know you are missed and that we acknowledge your absence at every gathering and every special occasion.