"It may seem boring, but it is the boring things I remember the most."
~Russell, Adventure Scout from the animated film Up
My daughter and I went to see the film Up last weekend. The buzz about the film was all good, but the widow buzz held a warning...good film, heart wrenching theme, message that may speak straight to your heart. Once again, the widow buzz did not disappoint.
Without giving away the whole plot, I will just say that this film sent my mind back to the everyday moments that made up my life with Phil. When I look back on our life together I am reminded that our most precious moments were the ones that happened over the heads of the kids, riding side-by-side in the car, chatting in bed at the end of the day, or making breakfast together on Sunday morning. The trips that were planned, but never taken, don't matter much. The time I managed to get him in a tuxedo isn't as important as the huge family breakfast we enjoyed the next day. I can see him laughing with friends clearly, but don't recall what we last fought about. Time has sifted through the pebbles of our daily lives, and I have discovered that the seemingly insignificant things have become diamonds when viewed through the microscope of reminiscence.
Brown around the edges pancakes were Phil's specialty. He could be counted on for a dollar any time the ice cream man came around the corner. Once a month or so Phil would stop at Arby's (a favorite of the kids), buy a bag full of whatever they sell there, and call out "Arby's night!" when he came through the door. Our family joined the Livestrong community with gusto, none of us more so than Phil. He bought one hundred Livestrong bands and kept them hidden in a secret place. We didn't find the stash until three years after he died! Phil would stop at up to three different fast food places in order to satisfy individual whims...the kids still miss that crazy behavior. Going to the grocery store with Phil meant running the risk of spending an extra thirty minutes chatting with a friend...or a stranger that looked friendly. All of these moments seemed silly at the time, and now they make up the fabric of our memories of life with this gentle, humble, hysterical man.
Up reminded me that every day moments count. And that we are creating our own tapestry with our children, family, and friends right now. I hope that at the end of my days my own woven masterpiece is as colorful, playful, and joyful as Phil's.
Happy Father's Day, honey. Thanks for the adventures.