Today I stayed home from work because I’m sick and resting from a respiratory infection and possible pneumonia. As I finally willed myself to get out of the dark bedroom, I walked around our quiet house. Both my girls were at my parents house because their Spring break just started today, and my husband is at work, so my mom stayed with them so I could rest up. It’s an odd feeling to have the stillness of a home when you’re so used to it being filled by noise, whether it’s the sound of doors opening, voices, music, etc. There’s always something making a sound in the background.
As I walked around the house deciding if I was hungry enough to have lunch I happened to pass by the black desk in our living room and glanced at the journal sitting on top of the desk. I can’t remember if I bought it or if it was a gift from a Women’s event I attended.
I sat down and opened it up and the first date was January 5, 2020. Covid was around the corner, and so it intrigued me to see what I had written, if anything much at all. I’m notorious for having journals that aren’t completely filled from beginning to end with my writing. My second entry was Feb. 2nd, 2020 and the third page was a note in Celeste’s handwriting in a light pink marker, and it reads “Mama, you can become a grrreeeat person. Love, Celeste” with several hearts drawn below her name. I wondered when she had written that. I had never seen it before, or had I seen it and forgotten it was there? So I began to read and found myself getting further and further drawn into the pages.
Have you ever gone back to read something you wrote and found yourself marveling at your thoughts? That was me.
I kept reading and smiling that with every turn of the page there was still more, that it wasn’t a half filled journal.
And then I got to the entry dated August 1, 2020, a Saturday. These were the first sentences…
I finally found some time to get some quiet space to write. The last two days were so unexpected and emotionally difficult. Never did I imagine we would have gotten to this day that I knew was coming, but you can never be prepared once it finally comes. Let me rewind to the night of Wed., July 29th.
That was when our beloved bulldog Biggie passed away. I went into great detail in the entry and wrote each thing that happened from Wednesday, July 29th and leading up to his being put to sleep on August 1, 2020. He was our faithful companion for 11 wonderful years and he lived an incredibly good life. I still miss him deeply and reading the words I wrote brought it all back and I sat there crying at the desk. But also thankful that I had written down what I felt.
That was the last entry of the journal, I had filled it from front to back, which made me smile.
It made me want to get back on here and begin again.
It can be hard to revisit memories, but I will never regret the gift of what those findings bring. It’s a reminder of where we have been and the road that led to where we are at now.