Missing So Many Today

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I’m not really sure if I chose the right time to taper my depression medication. I am hoping by the time the holidays are over, I will be off of them for good. As I sit here quietly thinking about the family members who have passed away, I can’t help but shed a few tears. People come and go into our lives and they change us. Some for the better and others for worse but the ones we hold dearly never completely slip away.  Their lessons, their memory, their kind words and their smile live in very special part of our hearts. It seems like yesterday that I was a teenager sitting in a room full of relatives, surrounded by an amazing circle of love. It saddens me to know many of those special people haven’t been a part of my life in several years. Every Thanksgiving I allow myself to remember. I sit in the pain, in my loneliness and I quietly grieve for their loss. I also remind myself that life is so much shorten than we ever imagine and it is so important to make memories with the people I am still blessed to have a part of my life. My heart is so full knowing in three short days I will return to place I grew up. The house that built me will be standing strong with a faint memory of my grandmother standing in the window waiting for me to pull in the drive. I still feel her presence today. Take time to look around your table over this long weekend. Be grateful for every person, every day, every memory and for all the wonderful times that are still to come. Count your blessings. Count them a hundred times and allow that special love to fill your heart and tuck it away where you can pull it back out whenever you need it most. 

One More Chance

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This was a post from one of my favorite friends on Facebook today. It sure did not take me long to type my response, my Nanny. As I typed those 5 letters my eyes quickly filled with tears. Who is my Nanny you might ask? I could answer so many different ways. My Nanny is the mother of my mother, my grandmother, a woman I miss each and every day. My Nanny is the woman I was fortunate enough to have live in the house I grew up in most of my childhood years. Can you imagine what a gift it was to not only have the love of my parents around me each and every day but to have my grandparents too. My Nanny could sure cook. Not only could she cook but she could disguise meatloaf to look like a White Castle hamburger and make one of the pickiest eaters I have ever known, my brother, eat it too. She could make gravy that would leave you longing to put a straw in it and drink it when nobody was looking. She was the woman who hid a case of Whatchamacalits in a place just for me when she knew I was having a bad day. I can’t exactly put my finger on why I still think of her so often. The older I get, the more I appreciate her and last night she came to visit me in a dream. I see her there often and we sit facing each other in silence while our hearts speak. I always see her looking happy, with a great big smile, and when I wake up and she is not there my heart hurts. But, that is where she is most alive, inside my heart and in the memories I cherish where I can close my eyes and see her face. I am so blessed.

Every night when I pray, I thank God that my children are that lucky too. My mom is coming for a visit in a few days and it almost seems silly how excited my kids are. But I smile to myself because I understand, that my mother to them is like my Nanny is to me and then I know no matter what, a short visit from someone that special always makes everything okay. I have one favorite memory of Nanny that stands out in my head. I took my kids for a visit to see her for the last time. She was listless and withdrawn, but somehow, someway when we got there she perked up. I remember we carried her to a chair in the living room and my son, who was pretty young at the time, wanted to play with a balloon. Where she found the strength and energy to hit that ballon back and forth that day is still a mystery to me but it was a blessing too because although she has been gone from us a long time, that is the last memory my son has of her too.

How would you answer that question. Tell me who and tell me why. I would really love to hear your story. Someday, I can only hope that someone would choose me when they are asked that same question. I guess I just will never know.