I remember contemplating the number of years a person may live, to the number of sunrises or the number of springtimes. If a person lives seventy years they will have seen 25,550 sunrises or sunsets. As beautiful as they are, you can afford to sleep or work through some of them. At the same time, 70 summers, 70 first days of spring. That’s not that many when you consider how beautiful those events are, but I think we know that and that’s why come summertime or the first snowfall people go outside and marvel.
Mathew lived 25 years or 9,125 days plus 7 weeks from his birthday until his death. Those last 700 days or so, weren’t quality days, most filled with pain and sickness.
25 summers.
25 autumns.
I had 25 Mother’s Days with him and his twin.
This picture was taken Mother’s Day 2014.
In this picture of the three of us, I have that expression on my face of vindication/joy I wrote about in my previous post. Mathew was responding so well to the chemo. I had my two sons with me for Mother’s Day.
We went with my parents to a local BBQ restaurant.
I had no idea this would be our last Mother’s Day together.
At this time, I wasn’t even considering that anything would be our last.
Our last year….
Our last summer….
That reality would start to set in later, in September.
By then I started to suspect we were experiencing our lasts.
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