The following is written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
My oldest daughter’s grandmother died yesterday.
Grandmother on her father’s side.
The news of her passing left us all reeling.
She had been so healthy, right?
One minute here;
Next minute – gone.
Judy was someone that I loved dearly.
Though her son and I had never married,
she had always felt like a mother-in-law to me.
She, who had stood across from my own mother and watched as Alena was born.
The very first grandchild for both.
I’ll never forget the look on her face,
and how my very first memory as a mother was seeing my own mother’s face next to hers.
This morning, as I drove to meet Alena and my mom with the girls for a wedding shopping trip,
I drove past a spot overlooking the laguna that I’ve passed for months and said to myself, “someday” about.
Someday I’d stop and take a picture.
Someday I would have the time.
With the weight still bearing after the news of Judy’s death,
I saw that view passing by and knew someday really needed to be today.
I pulled over to the shoulder the soonest I could and walked with Chloe and Tessa along the shoulder of a two lane road at least a quarter of a mile to get to the spot,
even though I was already running late.
It wasn’t so much about the actual picture as it was about the realization that some things just can’t wait.
I took the photo of that beautiful spot where the water flows in a winding way through the reeds like an unknown path.
It reminded me of how life is:
Beautiful and surprising.
Easy to pass without stopping, but
worth pulling over for.
I breathed in, and we walked back the van.
I’d done something I had wanted to do.
I started the car up again, and we drove to begin all our plans for the day.
Alena’s wedding is fast approaching.
Her actual one, too.
Not just the one with her in my way-too-big heels with the family dog as the groom.
The passing days with your children – apparently, they never slow and pull to the shoulder.
She loves announcing the days like the Town Crier:
“58 more days!”
I try to smile as big as her.
Most of the time I fail.
She announced it today as we drove to see the apartment she and Aaron had just been approved for.
I felt both comforted in the peaceful location they’d chosen, and also like I was holding my breath at the thought of watching her leave home with her very last box.
But, from the time you teach them to walk on their own,
you hold on, and then you let go;
Over and over one million times.
A lifetime exercise that always seems to feature some muscles that perpetually feel far too weak for the task.
She asked me if I wanted to see the mailboxes and the laundry room.
I saw them, and also the reminder that her address would change, and that I’d soon be done listening to Justin complain about how she STILL hadn’t switched her clothes over to the dryer.
I saw her life changing in wonderful ways,
but inside of that change tumbles my own life, too.
While she is filling all her new spaces,
I’ll be feeling the ones that are left.
After seeing the apartment complex, we headed out to shop; she, my mom, my two pre-teen daughters and I.
Alena already has her dress,
but we all needed to find something that WE could wear to the wedding,
so we went to the mall.
Chloe and Tessa entered that mall like predators.
I felt like I was watching a National Geographic special, the way that they moved through the racks.
“They don’t get out much,” I joked to a woman with us in Forever 21 who nearly got mowed down.
I’m starting to think that store got its name because that’s the number of tranquilizer darts it takes to remove a preteen from it.
Twenty-one.
Forever…Twenty-one.
The five of us moved through the mall on a mission.
We had lunch.
We laughed so much, and I took mental snapshots with my mind.
I watched Chloe and Tessa just now coming alive to the wonders of shopping.
I loved seeing their eyes lit up.
They spoke no fewer than 6 million words.
I was reminded of all of fun I can be having right now with them while they are still in the nest, and that brought a comfort to me.
I ended the night, once we returned home, snuggled up in my bed with my youngest, who is seven, Paige.
She’d played at a friend’s all day and visited a farm while we had shopped.
This is the girl who had opted to attend an actual FUNERAL Saturday rather than her sister’s bridal shower.
No surprise shopping just wasn’t her thing.
Nose-to-nose I asked her about her day, and smiled looking her over.
Her nails were dirty.
The bottoms of her feet needed washing.
She told me with 6 missing teeth that today she’d ridden a horse bare-back, and then every detail of the wedgie that it had given her.
I pictured her there, in the mud of the farm, just a kid exploring the world,
and I smiled knowing:
It is not over.
There is so much left.
There is always so much left.
As long as there is breath in our lungs,
we have to take it all in.
The good, the hard, the beautiful dresses, and the dirty feet of it.
Life winds around so many dark corners,
but the darkness is always followed by dawn.
One life passes,
One life born,
And the winding way goes on.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
