Flashback Friday

 

I found this picture while visiting my Mom this past weekend, and knew it was one I wanted.

I wish that I could remember this photo. The exact moment - what I was thinking, what we were doing, why it was taken. What jokes my Dad told, did I laugh? What was said. Instead, I can only tell you this: It was 1998. I was twenty-three years old. John and I had been married a year. Mom was 51, Dad was 52. We were visiting them at their home in Greenville, North Carolina.

If you had told me then that my Dad had just nine more years, I wouldn't have believed it. And when I look at this photo, I wish I had remembered more. I wish I had enjoyed these moments more, instead of taking them for granted, assuming there would be years upon years of heaps and gobs of memories, all mine.

I guess that's what  hits me most these days. Why can't I remember just being with my Dad, enjoying the time we had? Why didn't I capture more memories, create more memories, or for Pete's sake, just REMEMBER the memories? And I wonder what I would have done differently, if I had known. Not that it matters - it's a cruel question - because there isn't a re-do. Like the heart-wrenching song says, "You only get just one time around. You only get one shot at this, the one chance to find out the one thing that you don't wanna miss." And then that makes me wonder what I would wish I was doing differently if another loved one was taken from me today. And if I would do things differently - say, be more loving, less grumpy, more forgiving, less bitter, laugh more, cry less - why am I not doing those things now? One shot, that's all we get.

I know that I've grown a lot in the past year. God has taught me a great deal. I know this because I can look back and read what I wrote last year at this time, and I just go 'wow.' For instance, I can very vividly remember not understanding how the world could just GO ON, completely oblivious to my pain. Now I know that the world is full of suffering and loss - my city, my neighborhood, is full of suffering and loss. And the world continues to go on in the midst of all of that. No sooner would I shout out "Don't you know my Dad died?!" than someone else would shout back "My daughter died!" or "My son was killed!" or "My parents died in a car accident!" And then my loss would seem to pale in comparison. Not that it's about comparing; a loss is a loss, and it's all how we deal with the loss that matters. But you get my point: I've learned that I am far from alone in my grief, even though I felt very alone last year.

When I look at this picture, I see a young girl who didn't know how good she had it. At least, I don't think she did. I think she took for granted the fact that her parents would always be around, smiling for the camera with her. Except for the demon eyes (which I tried, in vain, to erase), I see a happy girl with happy parents. I like to think that, mostly, that was our life together. With Jonathan, of course, our life as a family was defined by our faith, our love, and our happiness. It is not defined by our loss. And that's what I choose to remember the most, one year later.

"Someday when it's all said and done, I hope you see that it was enough...this one ride, one try, one life....to love." 

Comments

[Ashley Lee]

Living in the here and now is difficult for all of us. I need to be reminded of that more often myself, too. God tells us to live each day as if it is our last. If we would only do that.

Here's to here and now. :)

[Renee]

Your picture made me smile. I always appreciate you sharing your heart and reminding me of what's really important about how I live out this "one chance."