The bitter time of the holidays.

I know I have blogged in the past about "Dark Days" .. (I always think of Gilmore Girls and Luke's Dark Day when he's mourning his father's death). Today, this week, this month... well, I've had a few dark days. I don't know if it's from all the change that we have experienced, the small things that trigger a memory, the idea of planting a garden in the spring, the wondering, the drive past the cemetery... Or the combination of everything.

It would be easy to feel sorry for myself, and yes, I am taking today to do just that. I do wonder what kind of a relationship I would have had with them.. and if I would have had any siblings.. or who I would be TODAY. Today, December 18, 2013. Thirty-one years after they have passed away. Thirty-one years. My dad would have been 55 years old, and my mom would have celebrated her 50th birthday a week ago. However, I can't live in the what could have been, or the what if, or the could have... I have chosen to embrace a gift that my parents weren't given.

When I sit back and think about it, I have already been able to do so much more than they ever could -- I am in my 30's. I was able to see and be with my daughter for her 1st birthday... and I am so thankful I have been able to see her 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and am looking forward to seeing her 6th birthday in March. I am thankful she has a sibling and I have seen him grow into this amazing little boy who has me tightly wrapped around his little finger. I am so thankful to have seen him grow his first year of life, and I am so excited to see what the future holds for him. I am thankful for the past 10 years with my husband. Life could have been a very different deck of cards for me but I am so ... ridiculously grateful for how life.

Newspaper clippings from my parent's accident (December 1982)

A friend of mine from college was at my work a short time ago. I lost it thinking about my dad and how much he liked her.. and how much it meant to me that she attended his funeral. This time of the year reminds me of a particular Christmas and a holiday party we went to. The hosts of the party (to about a hundred or so people) selected my dad to "sing" in the 12 Days of Christmas. He hated every single second of that.. and every time he had to "sing" Three French Hens I think my mom slid more in her seat until she was almost under the table. It makes me laugh with tears in my eyes thinking about that memory.

This past May it has been 12 years since he said goodbye to his pain, suffering, and met his Jesus. I miss him. I know I could use him this spring and summer when we plant a garden. When I was growing up, my dad had two HUGE gardens. You name the food and there's a good chance he could grow it. The garden will be in his honor and memory. I also see time in the garden as time to talk to him. So, if I give you some food next spring/summer, and it's a little extra salty, it's love from shedding happy tears.

He taught me to be honest, to speak when it's necessary, but also to be true. He taught me to love life because we aren't guaranteed tomorrow. He taught me to be thankful for what I have because it could be taken away in an instant.

I have chosen to see things differently. To be cautious. But to love those around me passionately. I want my kids to know DAILY I love them. I am thankful for them. I hate yelling at them, but I also want them to grow up to be respectful adults. I want my husband to know I am so thankful for him. He is my rock. He has been through the good and bad with me. He stood next to me as we said goodbye to my dad.

At this time of the year we tend to think about presents... Today is a present. I am so thankful I can open that box today, and I hope I can continue to open the day for a long time.