Memories

Memories

By Carolyn. H. Wayson

( Warning: Contains mentions of death)

Your little hands. Your innocent smile. The way you would just sit and look at me. The same way you look at me now. On my deathbed. You think it will be the end of the world when I leave. But it won’t. I promise.

I remember the first time I held you. I looked at you. I could not stop looking at you. Then the nurse took you away. And I could not bear it. So I went to go find you. I searched the whole hospital and when I finally found you in the NICU, I just sat and looked at you some more. You were my precious baby. You always will be. Even when I’m not on this earth anymore.

And then I’m back. Back in the little hospital room with the beeping machines and you sitting in a chair next to my bed. Your head is in your hands. Your praying. Your asking God for strength. Strength for me and for you.

And then I’m back in our home. You were taking your first steps. You walked three stumbling, wobbly steps from your father to me and then back again. I jumped up in ecstasy, running over to you and covered your little head in kisses. We were so happy we took you out to get ice cream.

And then it’s your first birthday. Your three layered cake I homemade that you just slammed your mouth on the plate and started eating. The playground I took you and your other baby friends to. When it started snowing and we all went outside and played in the snow for the rest of the day. You always loved nature.

And then you’re starting your first day of school. You were scared. You were never really a people person. But I handed you your backpack and told you you could do it. And you did. You were always so confident. Even in the face of something you were scared of. I wish I could have been more brave, more like you.

And when we painted your first bedroom. You insisted on it being a bright pink. So we labored for days making the walls the brightest pink we could find. And then you decided you wanted yellow walls. I had to put my foot down otherwise we would have been painting your room for years. But you were flexible. You went with the flow even when you were only four years old.

And when you lost your first tooth. You were scared, thinking you were becoming old and all your teeth were going to fall out. Then when we told you about the tooth fairy, you started crying and telling us to lock the doors so that the evil flying lady wouldn’t come and take your teeth. You were so logical, even when things didn’t make any sense.

And your first sport. You wanted to do soccer. And you were amazing at it. Me and your father would stand in the bleachers cheering you on as loud as we could. You would score so many points for your team and when you won, we would take you out for pizza. And when you lost we would take you for fro-yo. You mostly won. So we got pizza ALOT. But you never cared about winning. You cared about having fun. And that is much more valuable than winning.

And you’re learning to drive. I gripped my armrests, yelling instructions to you as you shakily pulled out of our driveway. You eventually made it to the grocery store and back, but by time we got out of the car, my throat was hoarse and there were nail indents in the armrests. But you were actually pretty great at it and you got your license on your first try. You always persevered even when it was a new or hard thing. I hope you always do.

And when you left for college. Leaving us behind to start a new life. I cried for days. But you called frequently. And that made it bearable. Though just barely. I had to get used to not having you around constantly. I could barely sleep at night without the presence of you in the house. But I found a way. I just thought of you. And that made everything better.

And when you got married. You looked so happy. It hurt to let you leave me. But I knew you would have a good life. The same way I have had a good life. Someday I knew that you would have to let me go as I did for you. And you probably won’t be ready. I know I wasn’t. But you will find a way to push through. You always do.

And when I met my grandchildren. They were the sweetest grandchildren I could’ve ever asked for. I was the fourth person to ever hold them. And I looked at them. The same way I looked at you. And I eventually had to put them down. But it was only to let you hold them. Seeing the joy on your face was just as lovely.

And then there was your fathers funeral. I was inconsolable. But you found a way to comfort me even when you were grieving as well. You were always selfless like that. Always thinking about others first. Sometimes I wish I could have been more selfless. I was never the best parent I could have been. But you loved me anyway.

And now. As my cancer is getting ready to take my life. I hope you know that I love you. You are an amazing person and I know that you will sow these qualities deep inside your children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

And if you ever are feeling sad. Or missing me. Or grieving. Just think of these times. The good or the bad. Cause these are ours.

Our memories.