Every day is a gift; celebrate it

Grief is a fickle beast. It’s a lot like the ocean creeping back during high tide. There’s an ebb and flow; one minute the sea is calm, and the next you’re engulfed.

There isn’t a right or wrong way to “do” grief. It happens. I don’t know that time heals all where grief is concerned. I think it is more of adjusting to a new normal.

My husband Wayne and I both lost our mothers to cancer, Wayne’s mom 12 years ago to liver cancer, and mine to breast cancer nearly 18 years ago.

We each have traveled the road of grief in different ways. For me, it is particularly poignant this time of year.

July 1 marked 11 years married for us. One of our individual (and collective) regrets is that our mothers weren’t alive to share in that joy with us.

We had the privilege to marry in the palatial backyard garden of Dwight and Lona Mae Waldo, surrounded by family and friends who helped make the day even more beautiful (despite the 110-degree temperature).

Actually, Lona Mae told us we were getting married there, “or else;” wisely, we chose to listen to her and do what she said.

Another friend, the Rev. Clyde Davis, officiated, bringing a sweet, wise presence to the celebration.

All of the children in our families participated: we had a flower girl, candy girl, bubble girl, cake man, book holder, maid of honor, best man. Each had a job with a title.

As joyful as that celebration was, we recognized our mothers (Catherine Eileen “Kitty” Dobson and Lucille Marie Head) were missing from the celebration. To honor them, I carried extra flowers in my bouquet for Wayne’s mom, and wore a pin that belonged to my mom on the inside of my dress.

In truth, we both felt our mothers were there, celebrating alongside everyone else. Before the wedding until the present day, we have said we believe our moms are sitting together, more than likely trash-talking us (I’m pretty sure my own mom would have liked Wayne more than she did me!).

We are on this planet for such a short time. The lesson in all of this is to celebrate each day as the true gift that it is rather than the “same ol” something we’ll wake up to see the next day.

There are no promises for tomorrow. Rather than spend the blink-of-an-eye that we have worrying about whether people like us or speak well of us, enjoy the moment. Don’t get caught up in drama over which we have no control; celebrate the life we have been given; honor those who’ve gone before us by enjoying and living in the moment we have (that they didn’t get); don’t waste the time that we’ve been granted.

Every moment is precious.

Our footprints will leave their mark on this planet, and in the hearts of those that matter to us, much the same as our spirits were filled by those who left us. Make those moments — and footprints — count.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact her at:

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