I wrote a farewell post last week while we waited for the storms to reach us. I had it set to auto-post in a week, giving me time to stop it if all was well. It would have posted today. Something about writing a good-bye was comforting though. I went from being quite scared to having a calm sense that I had done all that I could. Now I just needed to embrace every moment I had with my family and take each breath as it came. My calmness was very helpful when it came time to put the kids to bed. The girls drifted off in their beds and I moved them into the storm closet without them even noticing. Robotson was awake, but not worried because I was not worried. I cleared out my Reader and watched the weather radar until the wee hours of the morning and the danger had passed. Then I saved the post as a draft and went to sleep snuggled with my babies. Hopefully no one will see my last post for many decades to come. By then I'm sure blogging won't even be the thing to do.
My post wasn't nearly as beautiful and well-written as this one. Warning: do not read this unless you are ready to cry. Despite my not knowing Derek Miller (or even hearing of him before he was gone), his words were very comforting. That's the sort memory I would like to leave behind when my time comes. I've often drafted letters in my head that I'd like to leave for my children. Maybe I need to actually start doing it so that they know how wonderful my life was with them. That's one of the life lessons I hope to pass on to my children - don't wait to tell people how much they mean to you. Funny Girl already embraces this philosophy. She tells people all of the time that she loves them. The waitress at Frontera was surprised, as are most of the people she tells. If she feels a sort of gratitude toward someone she wants to make sure they know it. I want to be more like her.
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