Two flights. A lengthy layover at Chicago O’Hare. A tussle with the rental car agency. We had finally arrived at our destination and were pulling up to my parent’s house.
Ordinary Moments
Mom rushed out with her welcoming embrace while my father stood slightly bewildered in the doorway. A brief glimpse of recognition crossed his face as I moved toward him to give him a hug and he said, “Well, hi, Sis!” He called me by my childhood nickname. This is the first time I’ve heard him say it in well over two years. The kids each moved through the niceties and then Dad was stumped again as he asked my husband who he was and made a formal introduction.
It was this most ordinary moment of my father recalling my nickname that has stuck with me. Dr. Brene Brown says, “Ordinary moments are the ones we miss the most when they are no longer there.”
As my father slowly succumbs to Alzheimer’s, I’m struck by all of the ordinary moments I miss—the moments I took for granted. The look in my dad’s eye as he patted my mom on the butt while she was cooking and then kissed her on the cheek. The way my dad puttered in the garden or would be fixing and organizing things. Dad reading the morning paper and talking about whatever moved him while his coffee cooled too much and needed to be reheated. Dad’s love of trips to Costco and Sam’s Club in search of new products to try. His desire to try new restaurants, go to movies and listen to music. I can still see Dad bouncing around to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It made his heart light.
While I quietly mourn these lost moments with Dad, I’m reminded of the importance of recognizing and valuing these moments while I’m able. Each of us have the power and maybe even the responsibility to create beautiful, ordinary moments for ourselves and others that will linger long after we’re gone.
