As I begin to write this, my cell phone flashes 3:33.
I wake up constantly to this same time, almost to the point that I think my circadian rhythms are aligning to this number.
What it symbolizes to me is that I have 3 kids, always 3 kids.
I have one who is no longer physically present in my life.
And, I have two others who are. I thank God every day for them.
I’m grateful they are not only in my life, but they embrace me being in theirs.
I’ve got to admit that there were times when they were teenagers that I never thought I’d get to where we are now, but I’m so grateful for the journey.
I’d always say to them that it wasn’t easy being a good kid, any more than it was being a good parent. Especially under our circumstances.
It is hard to set limits, to offer structure and to offer guidance as a parent. As a bereaved parent, I often had to do the same for myself, to be the best version of myself when at times, all I wanted to do was to crawl back into bed.
Our daughter Kyle, 26, and our son Ian, 24, gave me reason not to.
And, to not only get my butt out of bed, but to be present in their lives.
To embrace the moments, all 525, 600 of them each year, because I knew all to well and tragically that there’s no guarantee for the next. For any of us.
Now having weathered the toughest times together, we all enjoy the results of our efforts.
And what a joy they are.
From the phone calls “just to chat” to concerts, museums, travels and visits all together as a family whenever we can tuck them in, each is such a blessing.
Kyle gave me a special Christmas gift this year, one where we exchange notes with each other, following writing prompts. Her words bring tears as she reflects on how I’ve inspired her, why she’s proud of me, and what she hopes for me.
Ian offered the same to me last Mother’s Day, in typing a letter on an old typewriter he has.
Just as their words have touched my heart, I hope mine touch theirs.
Love you Kyle and Ian!