You know I’d like to think I am a pretty positive person. I can genuinely say that I appreciate each and every day because I know first hand, that life can change in an instant. Been there, done that, and am a different person because of what this life has handed me. Yes, I appreciate each and every day, with maybe just one exception – January 31st.
It’s the one day I really don’t like. The day he died. The day I was by his side as he took his last breath. The day I watched my babies say goodbye. The day I wish I could erase. The day I drove home from hospice with a bag full of his things that he would never use again. The day that I had to walk through my door a single parent, the evening I had to sit down for dinner with my kids as a party of 3, the night I went to bed alone…
It’s the day and the night I truly want to forget, but it’s the day and the night that everyone else always remembers – year after year after year… January 31st – the day I want to shut it all down – no texts, no posts, no emails, no calls, no NOTHING…, but it’s the day I am flooded with sentiments via every imaginable outlet – email, phone, texts and social media.
As that day draws closer, my anxiety builds. It doesn’t matter if it’s been 1 year or 7 years – the uneasiness is the same. Forced to relive those days leading up to it, those moments through it, and the days following it, are torture. It’s hard enough reliving it on my own watch, but to have everyone else reach out to me during that time, brings back the pain more than two-fold. It forces me back to those days that I’d rather soon forget.
For some time I thought I that I may be the exception here. Maybe there are some who like to hear from everyone on the day their loved one died? Maybe it brings them comfort or relief? But the more I researched and dug around, the more I heard that, although the big day messages are appreciated, the memories shared during the “little days” mean so much more.
You’re not ruining our “little” days…
I’d so much rather hear from you on a random day in August about how you heard a song on the radio that reminded you of him. Or you thought of him one day in July as you passed the Harley Davidson store. Or maybe, as my friend Meredith does, reminds me during every snow storm, how much he loved the snow and how he loved to sing a Jeff Turner original song called, “Snow, Snow, Snow”! The little moments matter. They’re the moments that carry us through, the moments that make us smile, laugh, cry, and remember how precious life is. The moments that keep us going in times of darkness.
Believe me, you’re not ruining our little days. No matter where our lives have taken us, or how much they have changed, the ones we have lost are with us through the good days, the bad days and all the days in-between. The random phone call, text, email or visit to tell us a story won’t ruin our day – it just very well may make it better! So please don’t think twice about sending us a little reminder of our loved one – it means more than you know!
Life is lived in the little moments, as I am sure you have heard or seen on so many inspirational quotes. My kids and I talk about the little moments with their dad all the time. The times when he coached little league, the times when he taught them how to swim, the times when he would read them story after story before bedtime. Those were the moments that counted and the moments I want them to cherish. The little moments that matter mean so much more! They are the moments that we all want our loved ones to cherish…
So don’t wait for the big moments… Share your little moments with those who mean the most!
Sheila
Camp Erin Parents 
I know exactly what you mean, i constantly talk to my son and stepkids about the little moments that we shared with my late wife Christina. Those times when she was a doting mother, so attentive with being silly, thoughtful, wiping tears and boo boos, when she was mobbed friend, my other half. Numerous and precious moments that barely sum up someone so wonderful and strong. It’s all about those times when they reminded us how special they were, and still are. 🙂
I remember the first time we sat down at a restaurant as a party of 4. It didn’t occur to the kids, but it did to me. We’re trying to remember the small moments too. My son is taking a photography workshop for 2 weeks and he’s using his father’s camera. Now that’s special.