Four.

Central lines, the beeping of the heart monitor, grey pallor.

Dead.

That’s not how I want to remember you. You were one of the most alive people I knew. You were someone who was not afraid to act silly, shout out of car windows on long road trips and to grab me and tickle me until I couldn’t breathe. Life was an adventure meant to be shared. Life was about ice cream sandwiches, berry picking on hot summer days and Christmas morning spent next to the tree. It was also about challenge and you had your fair share of those too. Maybe you didn’t handle them as well as some others, but then again, you did the best with what you knew at the time. You taught me never to quit, to demand more of my life and to roll with the punches.

I often reflect on the concrete things you taught me, like how to drive, or how to make the perfect pie crust, but it’s the other small examples that I reflect on today. I remember you standing in the shallow end of a neighbours pool, in shorts and t-shirt, even though you didn’t know how to swim.  I don’t know if you were trying to prove that not knowing how to do something shouldn’t keep you from enjoying an experience or if you just wanted to be closer to me to share in the joy I felt while in the water.

You were a strong woman and to see you so fragile in the end was heartbreaking. I am happy that today I am in a place where I am ready to move on from those last moments so that I can take from you the lessons you wanted me to have and pass them on to the new little people in my own life.

zawsze i na zawsze

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