What I Will Remember...

I can imagine the phone ringing - twenty, thirty years from now...

"Hey, Mom.  Do you remember how old I was when I first slept through the night?  The baby's been up all night every night and we're exhausted."

"Hi, Mom.  How old was I when I cut my first tooth?"

"Mom - can you put Dad on the phone?  I need a recipe."

In thirty years, I will be 75 years old.  Or young.  We have longevity in the genes, thank God.  It's possible one or both of you will be married... have kids... who knows.  But I hope that you call me... and I hope that you turn to me to ask these important questions... just so I can tell you...

I don't remember.

It won't be because of my age.  Heck, I have a bad memory NOW and I'm only (almost) 45!  I won't remember the big details of your development (unless they were written down in this journal) because I was too busy storing all the memories of the important ones...

I'll remember how I felt the moment you were born.  True elation.

I'll remember the days we spent together in the hospital - just the two of us - bonding and learning each other.

I'll remember the late nights, the early mornings and how you felt against my breast or nuzzled into my neck.  I am sure if I closed my eyes right now - I could imagine you there in my arms.

I'll remember the tears.  Yours and mine.  Some days were hard and our emotions were intertwined.

I'll remember how your body sunk into my lap or against my shoulder as we read books.

I'll remember choking back tears as each birthday ended - grateful tears that we had another year together.

I'll remember watching you from afar with such pride - so overwhelmed that you were mine.

I'll remember wiping your tears that were mixed in with mine as we stumbled and bumbled through grief.

I'll remember how you loved each other.

Oh, how you loved each other.

I'll remember how I loved your Father... and how I loved seeing the best parts of him in each of you.

I'll remember the way you smiled with your whole face... how your nose crinkled and your eyes lit up.

I'll remember death.  Your sister's and your brother's.  Watching you play and grow under a mantle with two urns.

I'll remember our life being wonderful and happy and filled with adventure and boredom and questions and answers and easy days and many, many sleepless nights.

I will remember all of these things in my heart.  And I hope, above all, that YOU will remember this...

Always remember the beauty and the pain equally... because one is born from the other.

Always remember that spending too much time dwelling on the pain, the bad day, the deaths, the tears... will only keep you in the dark.

Always remember that there will be sad "anniversaries" - but resist the urge to make them solemn and sad, just because the calendar says so.

Always remember that every day is an anniversary of a life.  Every single day you have an opportunity to celebrate love, joy and wonderful memories - all of the things that make you who you are.

And always remember that one day we will be in each others arms... all of us together.  And as your soul embraces mine I will know that I never forgot.