Family, Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal


The weekday morning quiet is my favorite time of the day. Outside, darkness still reigns, and I am usually awake before my 5:30 am alarm.  I can hear the dog’s gentle snore, and I take extra care to get out of bed as not to wake her because once she is up, she follows me endlessly until I take her for a walk. But this time is my time. An hour snatched out of the day so I can read, write, and think. The past few days, I experienced vulnerability from others and ownership about their feelings, and it hit me that while my memories have not faded, I act as if they do.

I no longer speak his name, or bring up his passing, yet it’s always there. It’s easy to get lost in the tasks, and all this busyness I have created, harder to admit that slowing down or cutting down on commitments is not quitting or giving up, it’s giving priority to people who matter.  It’s not easy seeing my blind spots. It’s appealing to just go, go, go, fill up the time rather than be present, still, and curious about what’s coming up or me.

There is so much more I could do with less distractions, and projects. Loved ones who deserve my attention, ears, and love. Not my intent, but my actions. Not platitudes, but spending meaningful time. Not being defensive when called out, but open to hearing, no! listening to their unmet needs.

So while the memories haven’t faded, my resolve to do better increases. His legacy is unfading, and I get to be more like him. Mend all relationships around me, and be an inspiration rather than a drain.

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