I have a hundred wishes.
They fly in and out of my mind every day.
Especially when I see someone suffering a loss of a loved one. It brings back memories.
I wish their pain away.
I wish that I didn’t know how hard their path will be.
I wish they didn’t have to suffer.
I wish there was a cure.
I wish you could see Marin’s smile. It’s completely disarming in the most wonderful way. It makes a hard day easier; it turns a bad mood around in a heartbeat. Her big eyes melt you. They make you want to make this world right.
She is amazing that way – sweet and creative – intuitive – sassy – fiery, even a bit scary.
Oh how you would love the scary part of her.
I wish you could hear Connor’s laugh. It’s contagious, and his deepest laughs are usually because of Marin, who he is so amused by (we all are…) but it’s so uncommon for a big brother to openly appreciate his kid sister this way – it only makes you love him more.
I wish you could see your little man. You would be so impressed.
He is wicked smart, so kind hearted – one of those humans who do not have a bad bone in their body and he’s hilarious.
In a way that most kids his age don’t quite get, yet.
And boy would you get him – you’d be his biggest fan and co-conspirator.
You and him, you would be thick as thieves. Partners-in-crime.
He has your legs, and mannerisms. The way he walks, the way he sits…
It strikes me sometimes – how much of you, is in him.
How he bucks the system. How the rules don’t seem to apply to him.
How he makes me crazy. How he doesn’t smile, he grins.
His heart of gold.
Then I think of you. I think of us – of our talks about life and love and parenting. How our fears were the same.
I think of how much I finally understood you, once Connor came along.
And I’m back to wishing – wishing you were here.
Wishing you knew how much you helped me.
How I trusted you like no other…
Knowing how you’d get it.
Knowing how you got me. Knowing how’d you love how these kids drive me crazy, with their strong will and independence. The irony is not lost on me.
I wish you could see it – your always self-assured and confident middle child, questioning herself trying to raise these kids.
Having kids changes you, it changes everything.
In the most spectacular way.
You knew that, and you were eager to see me in that role.
You wanted me to soften-up, to let my guard down.
You knew I had walls…
I hope you know, that well before you got sick, well before I knew I was losing you, I forgave you.
Truly, from deep in my heart.
For making me crazy.
For being imperfect.
For hurting me, when you didn’t know better – because once I became a parent, all of those spectacular changes led me to know.
I would do the same.
I would screw up. That I would hurt them, unknowingly.
That they will be marked by my failing good intentions.
That my love will leave scars on them.
Becoming a mom helped me understand you. Understand us. The way we battled. What you were fighting for.
I told you that day…”if you could undo every time you hurt me, you would.”
You were overcome, and said, so quietly, “Darlin’, in a New York minute.”
I knew you meant it.
I told you “I forgive you, Dad…” and we talked about how hopefully, someday, my kids would forgive me, for being so imperfect.
I didn’t know then what a gift that moment would be, until you were gone.
I wish you knew how deeply you are missed.
How we are not the same without you.
How much our world has changed, without you in it.
It’s just slightly, off.
I wish you could know…
That we are OK. Its taken time to get there, but you would have us no other way.
Your girls will forever love you, will forever miss you, and forever carry you with us.
I wish you could know…
How far we’ve all come, at all we’ve done, that we are doing exactly as you would want us to do and are as close as we could be, supporting each other, encouraging each other.
The Edkin girls have each other’s back in a big way, and we are still making each other laugh…
Still making each other crazy…
Still quietly wishing you were here.
I wish, I wish, I wish…
I wish you could see us now…