On Friday after just done baking a german chocolate cake, I sat down to watch the news and learned about the overwhelming sadness that descendent upon Conn. I had legs to shave, food to finish making, house to finish cleaning because after 9 long months my husband was on his transatlantic flight on the way home to spend 20 days filled with fun.
I was so happy and excited about my husband coming home yet I had tears rolling down my face after trying to comprehend what going on in an elementary school states away. A school just like the one I had sent my son to that exact same morning.
Did I tell him I loved him?? Have I been kissing him enough?? If he were to die today, would there be any unsaid words left?? Probably, and that broke my heart.
I cried, and cried some more for those children, those parents, the gunman's family that will forever have to live with the realization they raised a killer, the community, the country, I cried for them all and then I remembered... the only way to make the dead proud is to live. Live a full life and try to not take anything for granted.
Various parents did the same thing. They gave their children extra hugs when they came off the bus, they remembered to tell them they loved them, they gave them an extra cookie for dessert, they read an extra bedtime story and they promised themselves to not take anything for granted anymore.
I did the same, I got dressed, shaved my legs, picked up my children up from the bus stop, and picked my husband up from the aiport. Happy that we get 20 days to spend. Happy that he is alive and I have more time to tell him how much I love him and appreciate him, instead of sad its only 20 days.
In the next 20 days we have millions of things to do, and my resolve to not take anything for grant again might falter. I might get mad at my husband for putting socks on the couch, or upset my children spilled something for the millionth time, I am not perfect, but I am thankful I got one more chance to do it right, and you will be dammed if I waste it :)