We had a death in the family this week. That got me thinking about the frailty of life, legacies, and the ways in which we remember the ones we have lost. I have no way of knowing how much you will remember from your childhoods. I don’t know if you will remember the special themed birthday parties we threw every year when you were younger (the Harry Styles wedding, the pirate, and super-sleuth parties were some of my favorites) and how, when you got older, birthdays were celebrated with a few friends at concerts or during weekends away. I don’t know if you will remember how we encouraged you to try new sports and extra-curricular activities and the countless hours we spent watching you do all the things you loved to do most. Some of our favorite times as parents were spent celebrating the both of you and watching you grow into the things that brought you joy.
I have no way of knowing if you will remember me braiding your hair, having dance parties with you in the living room, or making you flower arrangements from our gardens. I don’t know if you will remember collecting sea glass together, family game nights, big pancake breakfasts on the weekends, or going to Bruins games as a family. I don’t know if you will remember our bedtime routines, sandwiching together on the couch, or our yearly family vacations in Rhode Island. I don’t know if you will remember that, whenever you needed your dad or me, all you had to do was turn around and we were there. I don’t know if you will remember that we were great listeners and encouraged you both to have a voice.
What I do hope you remember is the depth and width of my love for the both of you. It is there in every breath, in every embrace, in every heartbreakingly beautiful moment we share.
I love you both so very much,