Today is my birthday, and I am 52 years old. While that may seem rather ancient to some of you, those close to the same mark (or above it) will regard it as surprisingly young…as I do myself, most days. 😉
However you view the number, there’s no denying that 52 years contains a significant amount of living. As I sit here writing this and looking out the window at the morning, I can’t help but reflect on some of what has passed through those years. Growing up, falling in love, moving across the country, getting married, the births and raising of three beautiful daughters…the deaths of both my parents.
It is here that my breath catches and I pause.
My father was the age I am now when he was diagnosed with cancer 20 years ago. He was 53 when he died. And yes, he was still a young man. A very young man. His death at such an early age has influenced me greatly — mostly because it was such stark, undeniable proof of our mortality. Time and again over the last 20 years, I have been poignantly aware of how very short and precious our time here really is. Never more so now that I’ve reached the age of my father in his own last year.
I think it’s going to be an interesting year for me…a year, perhaps, of reflection and new appreciation for all that I have. Oh, it will still be insanely busy — with a daughter moving to Newfoundland, two books coming out, a to-do list as long as both my arms, and all the other little things life will almost certainly throw my way, how could it be anything but insane? But I think, too, that it will be a year of moments. Moments where I stop to breathe, to pause, to capture the smaller things so that I might hold them close in my heart and mind.
Today is my birthday. Already the colours outside my window seem sharper and the coffee tastes richer as I take the time to notice them…really notice them. I wish I could share the day — and so much more — with my father.
But then again, perhaps I already am. 🙂
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