Year Four

Daddio,

As we approach year four of you not being here, I'm feeling more reflective than in years past. Time has a way of doing that, no? My mind bends and swirls when I think about how much has occurred in the past three years - so much happiness, inevitable worry and sorrow, fear, and also celebration. It's natural and easy to fall down the trap of wishing you were here to spend time with these two beautiful and budding granddaughters of yours. I see you chasing Avery down the sidewalk on her balance bike and taking her and Harper to The Italian Store to visit your friends. Alas, these are just fleeting and impossible fantasies.

That being said, I'm realizing how much of you lives on in me and therefore in them. How much my words and actions will mold these little malleable minds much like your words and actions molded my own. I so often see you in myself in my everyday life- both for better and for worse! Even those for worse moments have a silver lining in that I pause to reflect on what I can be doing differently. All this to say : you're not here but my goodness you are. Each year that you've been gone has taught me something new about myself because you've always been (and will always continue to be) my voice of reason.

Year One: The Circle of Life
As we turned the page of you being gone for a year, I watched the sun rise and set that day on the beach in Florida with a baby growing inside of me. In that moment, the circle of life was staring me down- the notion of missing one life so much and also being so excited for the life that was going to join us soon. I realized that the yearning for what was and the excitement of what is to be are not mutually exclusive. Although that felt unfamiliar, that has been such a valuable life lesson. Beauty, fear, truth, sadness- they don't have to stand on their own.

Year Two: Patience
Admittedly, this is a theme that I honed in on during year two in spite of you- patience was never a strong suit between us, now was it? :) Motherhood forced me to learn patience on so many levels. Most importantly, I learned how to be patient with myself. There were (are!) simply not enough hours in the day to plow through those long to-do lists that I often found pride in completing. Even when there is the time, I'd much rather spend those fleeting moments doing something more meaningful than folding a basket of laundry. Those baskets? They sit there. Those ungraded papers? They sit, too. That cluttered trunk of my car? It gets even more cluttered if it means that my mind can rest for a few minutes. Everything will get done and it doesn't have to get done right away. Patience, patience, patience.

Year Three: Human Connection
This is a trait of yours that I've always admired beyond belief. You had a way of connecting with people that left me in awe, particularly when it was an unexpected relationship. From the janitors at the gyms on the weekends who became your best buds to Jack, the gentleman with an intellectual disability who you mentored while I was growing up, you consistently went out of your way to form new and meaningful relationships. Seeing you in these roles taught me what this life is all about - connection. As I settled into a new position at a new school during year three, I honed in on this idea even more. I formed some amazing relationships at CB over eight years that I've held onto and I've also put myself out there with new co-workers and have found a lot of comfort and support in those new relationships. Whenever I think of you, it's the reminder that I need knowing that the smallest words and actions carry the greatest gifts and weight.


And so, here's to year four and all that it will teach me. We'll be remembering you on the 2nd with Five Guys and Manhattans- just the way you would like it.