If you read my post on Saturday, you know that today is the 35th anniversary of my mother’s death. She died a few weeks before she turned 35, so she has now been dead longer than she was alive.
She missed half a lifetime.
She got the part where she grew up and went to school and got married (to an asshole) and had children. But she missed the part where they grew up and went to school and got married (to nice men) and had children.
“How do you memorialize that anniversary?” a friend asked.
Well, I took Benjamin to camp at the Y this morning without having to yell at him (OK, just once, but it was a tiny reprimand because he was dropping sofa cushions on his sister). On the way there, he called out over the music, “Mommy!”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I still love you.”
“I still love you, too.”
I brought him into his group rather than doing curbside drop-off, as his sister had swimming right after drop-off. He kissed me goodbye then scampered to his friends. Then I took Lilah to the pool, which is her natural habitat.
I held her in the water while she squeezed out the plastic fishie, laughing with delight at the spray it shot out. I tossed her in the air, held her while she kicked, and giggled with her.
I spent the morning in the moment. That’s how I memorialized the anniversary.
Now, go. Go squeeze a plastic fishie with someone you love.