DelBloggolo

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

JUST ONE MORE DAY

As we journey through our lives, writing new pages every day, we often forget that one important thing: tomorrow is not promised to us. We go places and later in life wish we could go back to them, and along the way we meet people who are strangers that turn into friends, some we keep and some we don’t. But the most important people in our lives should be our families, those we love. The beauty of life is when we choose someone for a mate, we have them for a lifetime, sometimes theirs, sometimes ours, they are suddenly family.

Being I am a senior citizen, I often think back about the times in my life, and the central characters who populated those times with me. It seems that lately I am doing it more so than ever, seeing often my mother talking to me and teaching me from the grave.

If there is one thing I would want in life is the chance to see Mom and Dad one more day, see my grandmother and hear her, just one more time. I took for granted too many times who they were and what they were like, and I took them for granted one time too many.

As I look back, I recall all the sayings Mom used for situations both good and bad, Dad’s swear words are not so hostile anymore, but a cadence of memories implanted in my mind, along with his kind-heartedness and humor.

Mom made the home, Dad made the house I used to think, Love and care in her home were matched by Dad’s pride in his house, he owned something he never had before. Mom too took on that attitude, I guess from renting for many years in Brooklyn, where even growing up they never owned anything, sometimes not even cares.

My children are everything to me. They are all unique and interesting, as I figure out who they are, and they figure out who I am. If something happens to them, I need to be there for them, and that is how I think. The worst pain, of course, is losing a child, but the next worst thing is seeing your child suffer, it is then when you wish it were you, instead. Did I tell my children I love them, I tried to, every day. I made sure that my job did not overtake my need to see them. I spent many hours on the train and in the car traveling for them and my wife. I look back now and realize how lucky I am to have these precious memories of all of them. They are my new home of nostalgia, wishing I could return them back to the younger years, maybe go to another soccer game, or baseball game. Walk along the make believe cemetery at Bethpage Restoration Village and read the tombstones out loud for the benefit of my son, just to hear him laugh.

I wish I could come home one more night, walk into the kitchen and softly kiss my wife, so good to me all these years, sitting down for dinner and hearing once again stories and complaints, laughter, and joy, and knowing I am where I want to be and even more so: need to be.

Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, love your family now, by thoughts, words and more importantly, actions.

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