This weekend for some reason I just kept thinking of the past. I’m not really sure why, there was no real reason for it.
I found myself thinking of the people in my family that I have lost. I have a pretty big family, my Mom is one of 12 kids and my Dad just has a sister, but there are still lots of cousins, second cousins, etc. My entire family is freakishly close, it’s actually something I really love. No matter what happens in anyone’s life there is a whole mess of people there to pick them up and remind them they are loved.
When tragedy strikes we will close ranks like you can’t believe. We will build an impenetrable wall around those we love and protect them the best we can. No one can get in that we don’t want.
Anyway, whenever I think of the family I’ve lost I usually just remember the awfulness of it. The pain. The loss.
This weekend though, I could think of the good. The fun, laughs and crazy times. The sleepovers where there was no sleep to be had. Being asked (in jest) if I wanted chewing tobacco so “it could put hair on my chest”. Sitting up late and painting our nails. Being told stories about my parents when they were kids. Running and screaming in fear (and glee) from the hundreds of bats that would fly outside my grandparents house at dusk. Wearing my fancy dress and “clompy” shoes to my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary party and seeing the look in my grandma’s eyes trying to tell me I was pretty.
I remembered all the happiness. The bad, the hospitals, the pain, the loss didn’t come.
I think I’m turning a corner. The trying to be hopeful is working. I like how I feel most days. The face in the rearview mirror was smiling back at me.