There are two sayings that I will always remember my mom saying whenever things didn’t happen as anticipated:
“Everything happens for a reason”
“Nothing ever happens before its time”
I guess age brings wisdom because as a child, teenager and young adult, I failed to understand these sayings and only remember being completely frustrated. But as I ventured into my thirties and beyond, this suddenly started to make sense.
I think the revelations and wisdom have come from the many mistakes that I’ve made in my life… the failed relationships, friendships that fizzled, career choices that disappointed because I wasn’t good enough by imagined benchmarks and standards. With every mistake, I grew stronger. No matter how small, I learned something. And from the lessons, I was able to find the courage to move forward. I found the bravery to step outside of my comfort zone. I learned to love myself without needing validation from others whether it was my physical appearance or the internal battles in my head.
Have I reached my final destination? No. But I’m in a better place today than I was yesterday and tomorrow will bring continued growth.
It’s been 9 years since you left and my life has changed in ways I never imagined. When you died, I was a new inexperienced mummy fumbling around with everything related to child rearing, but completely focused on my career and driving it forward.
Fast forward 9 years, and I’m 6 years older, many years weirder. I’m Super Mama (but still fumbling), autism advocate, homeschooling mom, blogger and yoga instructor. There is no science or career and career-focused is one of the last phrases that I would ever use to describe myself.
I’ve learnt the value of family and loved ones, the significance of health over wealth. I’ve discovered the ability to find beauty in simplicity and recognized the importance of appreciating every single moment however fleeting it may be. I’ve realized how easy it can be to take those we love for granted, assuming that there will be another day to say sorry or I love you, but then finding out that extra day is gone and will never be back.
When I gave your eulogy, I said that regardless of how tiny the accomplishment, the person who always lauded praises the loudest, was you. Yet I’ve always wondered how you would’ve reacted to the complete 180 that my life has taken.