My baby boy turned 17 this past Sunday. Ever since my kids were little, I have decked out the house in balloons and streamers to celebrate their birthdays. It occurred to me this year as I grew a little light headed while blowing up balloons, that my time enjoying this tradition is winding down. (Unless of course, I go to my kids’ respective apartments or dorm rooms and embarrass them by barging in to decorate!!!)
Truly, every year on my kids’ birthdays, I pause at some point to wonder at how quickly the years have gone by. While there have indeed been days that felt like they would never end---when we were trying to get a fever to break, or when they repeatedly got up through the night so they could sleep in our room with us---every time I look back, the long days never stand out for me the way the lightning fast speed of years does.
While he is the youngest in the family, Sam is easily two inches taller than the rest of us now. I can lay my head on his shoulder when he gives me a hug, and I’ve been noticing how broad he is through his back now. The baby boy I used to cradle is now a young man who lets his mom rest in his embrace.
It’s funny how the tables turn, isn’t it? September 2 marked what would have been my grandpa’s 99th birthday. He passed away almost six years ago and lived with my parents for a period of time before his death. It was hard for my dad to watch his own father become so dependent on him and Mom for his care. (And though he never failed to tell them thank you for every single thing they did for him, I’m certain there was a stubborn little part of Grandpa that wished it didn’t have to be that way.) As the once strong provider of the household grew more child like each day, they were all humbled in the process.
And none of us are exempt. Not a single one of us knows what old age or ill health might have in store for us. I think there is a gradual recognition of our limitations, requiring us to let go of who we knew ourselves to be, and accepting who we are becoming.
My parents were here for a visit over Labor Day weekend earlier this month, and I am so grateful that at 73 and 71, they are still able and willing to make the six hour drive to come see us. We don’t know when the day will come that they are unable to do that anymore, so I am acutely aware of treasuring every single second when we are all together.
I notice the traces of gray in their hair now, and a few more laugh lines around their eyes. (My dad has faithfully made us all laugh for our entire lives, so laugh lines are a guarantee in this family!) My mom is starting to develop the same roundness in her upper back that her mom had as she got older. The physical act of hugging Mom reminds me of what it felt like to hug Grandma. Likewise, watching my dad read his beloved newspaper with his glasses perched on his nose reminds me of his dad.
Grandpa loved his newspaper and morning coffee, just like my dad does. Their parents live on in them, as Mom and Dad will live on in me after they’re gone.
Yet another reminder of how the years fly by is our upcoming 25th wedding anniversary next month. At my bridal shower, my sister gave us a time capsule of sorts that we filled with pictures, newspaper clippings and various mementos from 1996. Opening it in 2021 seemed like it was light years away, and now, Don and I only have four more weeks to go!
We decided a long time ago to skip buying presents for each other on our anniversary and instead, take a long weekend trip away together each year, making memories and seeing new places. If there is one thing I’ve learned as these years whiz by, it’s that time is a gift, and none of us knows how long we’ll get to enjoy it.
God bless you on those long days, and don’t forget to look for God as those years pick up speed!
コメント