Timing is a strange and funny thing. Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of my grandfather’s death. It’s also the day we found out we were going to have Liam. Some people would chalk that up to simple coincidence, but I like to think there’s a written order to things – they happen for a reason.
I wouldn’t call myself a religious person, but I do believe in a higher power who is out there right now sending us messages via life’s timing. For me, the anniversary of January 6th will always be a reminder that with death comes new life. It’s a circle of which we are all incapable of escaping.
Someday I will be that 90-year-old in bed, surrounded by family, and letting go of this world. And my children’s children will likely be replacing me with little ones of their own.
I know that’s sort of a morbid thought for a Monday. But in my head, dying is going to be a lot like the last scene in Titanic. Rose is reunited with her soul mate, Jack, in front of the clock as a happier, younger version of herself (wearing a fabulous dress). And they’re surrounded by their loved ones who went before them. That photo up there of my grandpa loving life and the forest, as he did for the majority of his life – I imagine that’s what his “other side” looks like.
Love and family are too powerful of a thing to simply end when our bodies do.
Until then, though, I will be dishing out tons of love to my friends and family in this world. Especially the little one in my lap blowing bubbles and talking to me as I sip my morning coffee.