When I was 10 or so and I used to think about my wedding day (not often mind you, but when it crossed my mind), I pictured some older, more sophisticated version of myself walking down the isle. In my mind’s eye, this person getting married was a stranger. I saw her make her slow progress up the isle as if I was standing in the audience. I simply could not imagine what it would feel like to get married, so the safer thought was that it was happening to someone else.

When I fast forward 15 years to my actual wedding day and pull forth that memory, I was definitely older and more sophisticated, but I was very much there in the moment. There was no out of body experience going on. All of the nerves were definitely my own.

The same thing happened when I found out I was pregnant. I could see myself giving birth, but my perspective when I imagined it was always as someone watching events unfold from a quiet corner of the room. Well, I definitely felt every contraction and the memory of when the doctor placed Parker on my chest is the most amazing of my life.

As I laid in bed last night thinking of how afraid my yia yia must be, it hit me like a ton of bricks that on my deathbed, it may be an older and wiser version of myself (I hope!), but it will very much still be “me” contemplating the end of my life. Death is such an inevitability that it’s only the when and the why that are variable. I think that the feeling of going it alone is intensified because I’ve been living in this house without the benefit of hugs and kisses from the Irishman and Parker for over a week now.

Well, enough of me being a Debbie Downer. Off to get some coffee and shake these haunting feelings.


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