It started with St.Patrick's Day. My mom loved the day - was proud of her Irish roots.
I started potty training my oldest son Michael on St Patrick's day when he was 2 years old. 3/17/79. I placed his little potty in the kitchen, where I was baking soda bread and preparing our St Paddy's day feast. He was so cute - I promised him little briefs, just like his Dad wore, instead of the potty-training pants, if he did well. We later, picked out some, with baseballs on them.
This weekend, I worked on my family Genealogy - a never-ending journey. I get sentimental with some of the "great-greats" I have never met. I feel this abundant LOVE for them. I feel grateful. When you look, at the times they were living in, they survived when others did not. I have one great, that survived the civil war - AMAZING. and one that survived WW1 in France and WW2. They survived the depression - the flu pandemic of 1918/1919. My husband doesn't get why I feel this tremendous love for them. I don't know, I just do.
I miss my mom and dad. 10 years for dad and 9 years for my Mom. Of course, I miss my son - 14 years this coming May. I miss my sister, who passed so unexpectedly, that I am still shocked over it. And then, my 2 best friends -
Then I start in on the beloved pets I have had -
Hell, I miss everyone! Here I am, 63 and almost everyone significate in my life have gone on.
Oh well - it must be the drab, weather we are having.