I have been reading a lot of obituaries lately. Sadly, because I know too many people who have passed too soon in the last few months. Thankfully, I have also witnessed some amazing recoveries. Some that I prayed for like I have prayed for nothing else in this world, and I am still trying to wrap my mind around the miracle of survival. I am holding fast in my faith and knowing that God is good. He doesn’t make this whole world an easy place to live. That would make faith easy, and life less meaningful. But some days, he blesses us with such unexpected joy that his presence is confirmed to my heart.
I like to think that I appreciate life, but one thing that I have seen in both the good and bad stories of struggle, survival and death is that people like to look back at the lives that have been lived by their loved ones and proclaim them to have been, “full of life.” What does that mean?
I told my sisters while we were sitting out on Andrea’s deck enjoying a warm summer evening, that when I die, please don’t describing me as “full of life.” The way I see it, we are all full of life, until we aren’t. And when we aren’t, we have an obituary.
I am thinking about this tonight, as I was dragging myself through the evening routine. A day spent at a job I am tired of going to, followed by preparing and eating dinner with my family, jumping up to fill my daughters requests and mindlessly finishing my carb free plate. A quick bath, and then bed time. As I was laying on Thea’s bedroom floor with her, I told myself, “live in this moment.” Don’t wish this away for a quiet hour spent alone. I laid on the floor and played dolls, brushed Minnie Mouse’s ears with my beautiful baby and read her books, all the while concentrating on keeping my mind in that room, my eyes fixed on my sweet daughter. I want to be present in this life. What a gift it would be, if at the end of my days I could know that I had been present in my life, to have lived each day for what it is, to have made the best of everything that was given to me and to enjoy each moment for the gift that it is. I am not there yet, but that is a hope for myself that appears in my prayers each night.
Tricia, why aren’t you writing a book? You amaze me, you have such a talent for expressing feelings that ordinary people, like me, can never find the words to express. I love you.