Today, I am thankful for heroes. Or maybe I should say inspiration. Whatever, I’m so grateful to the people near and far who serve as reminders of what we can be.
My parents are high on my list of heroes. I miss them always, but especially this time of year, with the family making plans for the holidays. My parents were the gravitational force that held us all together. They were special people. People with faults, like anyone else, and bad moods and quirky beliefs and stubborn attitudes. But they always made their family their top priority. Their house was always open to kids, grandkids, and anyone else who needed a hot cup of coffee and a nice chat – and maybe a grilled cheese sandwich, especially if you were under 30. They worked hard throughout their lives to make things comfortable for their family, and they kept the bad stuff that happens in life very private, never dramatizing or feeling sorry for themselves.
My husband is right up there on the list, too. I’ll never live this down, I know, but I’m still going to say it. He’s a good man and a wonderful father, and although I never doubt that he loves me, he says it very clearly when he does things like shop for — and find — a winter coat I’ve been looking for, or grinds the coffee every night before he goes to bed so it’s ready when I get up.
I could call out a long list of friends here, too, but this would get far too long and I’d wind up crying before breakfast.
So I’ll stop, and wish you a Happy Tuesday, and say thank you to the heroes in my life.
You made me tear up this morning. My husband is not exactly Mr. Verbal or Mr. Grand Gesture. But I remember him staying up all night with my mother on the last conscious night of her life, following her when she wandered, and being so kind to her. I remember him when I wanted to adopt an old blind horse, first saying “We can’t take care of every stray animal” and then, about three seconds later, saying “well, I suppose he doesn’t have a lot of options.” I remember him carrying our old corgi, Sam, when he had degenerative myelopathy and couldn’t walk or saying “a little pee isn’t the end of the world, Sammy” when Sam became incontinent. And he picks up fresh squeezed orange juice for me because he knows how much I love it. Maybe he doesn’t say something flowery on the rare occasions when I dress up–but he thinks I look good with no makeup in my sweats.
As for my parents, can’t go there this morning or I really WILL be crying. But yeah. Them too.
It’s funny how someone else talking about a loved one makes you realize how cool yours are too.
Thanks for that. You’re making it hard to be crabby and hateful when you’re all mushy and thankful like this. XOXO
A beautiful post. Dale’s parents and your parents sound a lot alike. And as for the husband thing, well, you saw my post today and I’m already being razzed for item #1.
More lovely thoughts. We are so blessed, aren’t we?
So many people in our lives could be described as heroes. Thank you for the reminder to thank them personally.
Lovely post. And it even made Carrie go mushy.
Lovely post, our Nora.
Ya know, I always figured your husband was a good man because you’re happy and seem so content with the life you have with your family.
Btw, that Beth MUST get a blog.
xo
Sniffling here, too. Lovely post. Our loved ones are our anchors and our wings.
Nora: Thank you for giving me something to think about besides how much stuff sucks. As always, you’re a real inspiration.
Great post, Nora. Thanks!
Is that a ‘Frisco heart that I see there?