It may not be the big things in life that you’re most remembered for. Three years ago today, my wife died peacefully at Duke Medical Center. Last night, I asked the kids what they most remembered about mom.
It wasn’t her leadership in the community or the fact that she spearheaded the effort to build their new school. It wasn’t her accomplishments at the Jr. League or the vision she shared on the church building committee. What they remembered most were the small things.
“Mom always wanted to shop at Harold’s at the mall. As soon as she was finished shopping, she’d take us to the candy store right by the escalators. I looked forward to that every time!”
Sweet memories. Sweet, sweet memories.
She drank diet Dr. Pepper. Her fingernails were impeccable. Once she got addicted to Afrin – wouldn’t leave the house without it!
She’d only listen to one type of music at a time – winter often brought country, the summer was pop. You didn’t even think about changing the Christmas station from November 1st on.
She was a stickler for tradition – chili and cornbread on Christmas Eve and the song “Almost Heaven, West Virginia” as we drove over the mountain to our August getaway at Capon Springs.
One of the things that they miss the most is her back scratches. “Dad, you don’t have fingernails. Mom scratched. You give a nub rub.”
Instead of trying to change the world, maybe I should just grow my fingernails out and take more visits to the candy store. In the end, maybe that’s what counts the most.