Remember being young, possibly racing to the only dandelion you saw, hoping to beat your brother or sister? I do.
You pick this dandelion that is white and fluffy with seeds and try to be really careful not to let the wind cause any part of your masterpiece to disappear.
The thrill of being the breath that will losen, release the seeds to fly away with the wind made me a fast runner. I won!
Gently, pulling it from it’s warm bed, I would bring it to my mouth, enhale a deep breath and softly blow till the puffy white was all gone.
Where do the seeds fly to? It never entered my mind.
Something happened with the finality of my ‘Angel Girl’ dying last week. It was and still is hard to grasp that at 1:26 a.m. she was no longer with us. As my daughter said, “She exhaled”. Her last breath became part of the air I breathed. What is left of her? Pictures, a grave to visit daily, memories in my mind and that my family shares. She didn’t have puppies. Nothing from her physically, viewed, lived on. Just a hole in our hearts.
Your life…
What will live on when it’s time for you to exhale? Will there be memories that seem to fade with time or pictures that one day someone will ask, “Who is that?” and no one will be able to express in detail what you were like, your passions, your likes and dislikes?
Do you live your days to just get by and make sure your family is provided for? BUT nothing to stamp your seal on? Your children, if it’s His will you have any, will carry your personalities, memories, mannerisms but what will be your thoughts, words left behind?
Do you do things that pay it forward? Your kind words, random acts of kindness that make someone’s day brighter and in turn they touch someone searching for something, needing their day brightened.
Like a dandelion seeds that have been scattered on the wind, we scatter. The seeds land and a beautiful flower blooms and becomes a field of colors.
Where you are at, can you bloom?
Yes, you can. There is no better time than the present to claim your stake in how you will be remembered and not just exhale, being air someone else is breathing in.
What are ways you can make sure you are remembered and that your life wasn’t just another, forgotten?
I’m making my life be remembered by sharing my thoughts, my ideas, my life with others. My singing is on a CD. I wrote a song about my childhood, “Who Would’ve Known” and put it on my site, sung by another. My thoughts are on blogs, papers, journals, letters, cards. My voice is inside a build-a-bear, inside a picture frame. I have already written a letter and sealed it, to my children, that explains my choices in this life. I don’t want them guessing or assuming. I am not ashamed. My choices will help them make better ones because they will see what my choices got me, whether it be heartache or no ache.
Share your ideas with me. I would love more ways that my life will be remembered. Wouldn’t you?
