I’m off to the hospital to see my Mom who’s been struggling over the last week.

When I searched for an old blog to share with you, I found the perfect one.

~*~

Last night, during a family dinner, I stood by the pantry watching my loved ones from a distance. I smiled when my sister-in-law Missy let out her big, exuberant laugh. I took note of my brother Steven’s sly smile as he teased his wife, Jan. I snapped a group photo with my mind’s eye of the raucous clan before me – the gang I call my people.

This is what I’d miss if you were gone, I thought to myself as I scanned the room in search of memorable moments. I do this more often these days because it’s the time in life when loss is a more frequent visitor reminding us of what really matters. Some might call this practice morbid, but I call it paying attention.

It all started years ago during a squabble with my husband. One morning, as Michael got out of bed, he yawned so loud it startled me awake and I snapped at him for disturbing my peace. As he waltzed into the bathroom, he jokingly replied: “You’d miss my yawn if I were gone.”

I pulled the covers over my head and thought to myself, he’s right.

Ever since that day, I’ve used Michael’s comment to avoid silly arguments, to appreciate rather than judge our differences, and to value the little things that I know will become big things later on. I’ve learned to use the threat of loss to my advantage.

Just this morning I opened a gift from my Mom and laughed out loud at the kitchen towels she sent that look like our cats, Berty and Wednesday (see photo). As I read her card with its passages underlined multiple times, I thought to myself: Yup, this is what I’d miss if you were gone.

Love,
Cheryl

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