Today marks eleven months since my mom passed away.
Anyone who knew my mom knew that one of her greatest physical characteristics was her smile: The woman had a smile that could light up the darkest, dreariest of rooms. To coincide with her bright smile was a boisterous laugh: When something was funny, you’d be sure to hear my mom laughing about it from at least a mile away.
One of the things I like to observe about people are the physical characteristics, personality quirks, and mannerisms they’ve inherited from their parents. I can’t say that I was lucky enough to inherit my mom’s smile like my sister, Tara, did. But I was lucky enough to inherit my mom’s laugh. In fact, me and my two sisters all laugh just like my mom did. And when we’re all together in the same room? “It’s like a pack of laughing hyenas,” as my dad likes to describe us.
I may not have inherited my mom’s smile, but I’m glad I was able to inherit her other great expression of joy: her laugh.
Mini-epilogue: My aunt died on Thursday; she died in her sleep after overdosing on Vicodin. We weren’t close. I maybe saw her only once or twice a year during holiday family get-togethers, but the news was still heartbreaking to hear. I can’t stop thinking about how my uncle and cousins are feeling about it all. I mean, my family was just going through the same horrible ordeal almost a year ago, but at least we saw my mom’s death coming ahead of time and were given the chance to say good-bye. I can’t even imagine waking up and finding out someone I love is no longer there.
Tell your loved ones how much you care about them today. You never know when they’ll be gone.